


Tu-Fira

by sabotage



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, F/M, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 25,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabotage/pseuds/sabotage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thane contemplates the remainder of his days and his time with Shepard while she tackles the war on the Reapers and her burgeoning relationship with Samantha Traynor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

He's drowning.

For years he has felt his breath extinguishing. He is calm in the face of his impending death. There is peace in certainty. He is not special. He is just another of his kind following the similar path Kepral's Syndrome has outlined for him.

If he lived a better life it might have been different. There might have been more time. He is a vessel that is faltering from too much use. He spent the majority of his years as an instrument. He dreamed.

When he awoke he had Irikah and for a small while, Kolyat. The memory of Irikah is as fresh as ever. The spice in the air, her sunset eyes. Memory is a blessing and a curse, uncontrollable, agonizing and enough to give him physical pleasure. He failed her. The death of her attackers does not cleanse his sins. She is at the recess of his mind, as much as one can be to a drell. 

Sometimes waking is cruel but he appreciates his time with his son. Even now Kolyat tries to be strong. He hasn't changed much from when he was a boy. Thane reminds himself that Kolyat's once small life is a gift to the world. He is grateful to be partly responsible for it. He is grateful to Shepard for bringing him back into his life.

Shepard. Thanks to his eidetic memory, he can stretch their time into forever. It isn't real but it is. His lungs strangle him, refuse him air until he burns. Shepard had much the same effect. 

Mordin warned them of expressing their affection. She made jokes about the hallucinations. He's a serious man. He worried about laughter during their intimate time together, what would happen the moment their flesh and tongues made contact against one another. They were left feverish, burning for one another. It was a daze both were happy to be lost in.

He remains at Huerta Memorial Hospital. His Siha has a hard road ahead of her. He fears they are not delivering his messages to her. He mourns any loss of peace she may have. She sacrifices constantly and asks for nothing. He worries and hopes that she has found another.

The peaceful skies of the Citadel are illusory. He spends his remaining days with Kolyat. His heart overflows with pride and love for him.

These days it's Shepard who fills him. When he does not meditate he falls at the feet of her memory. Be alive with me tonight, Thane. 

The words were clumsy. They lacked the prose of his usual meditations, the works of art he reflects on, but they pierced him more deeply than any bullet or blade. That night they spent together is the reason he lives. He gets some satisfaction in proving the doctors wrong but it won't be long now. They won't be wrong forever. He knows he won't live long enough to see her finish this war. If she came to him now, would he be capable of being a lover to her? The doctors urge caution. It would be an unearned end-- one he doesn't deserve. He smiles thinking of it before his smile falters. No doubt the end would upset her.

He exhales softly, the air burning like fire in his lungs. Tu-fira. He is drowning in her.


	2. Pulp

Ash is down.

The stench of blood fills Shepard's nostrils. Ashley's suit is cracked and charred, melted in places. Shepard searches for latches but finds them fused together. She paces the Med-Bay. Ashley's laid out like ground beef on a slab. Is that what she looked like when Miranda got her hands on her?

She grips the bed frame. Whatever that thing was nearly reduced Ashley to pulp. Shepard looks to the AI core where they threw the machine. She can't risk it coming live on the ship. She shouldn't have dragged it onboard but the information it downloaded could be valuable.

Is it worth it? Blood is crusted to Ashley's nose and mouth. Her breathing comes as if through a strainer. She would have been a goner if it wasn't for the helmet. Kaidan died on Virmire. Ash's olive skin has gone a sickly grey...

Shepard's heart thumps violently. They might not make it to the Citadel on time. Anderson's on Earth. Thane is... she doesn't know where Thane is. Ripples of grim possibilities move like small earthquakes through her. No word from him while she was locked up. It's possible he's moved on. She prefers that possibility to the other.

Worried crew faces cloister around the Med-Bay window. She wants to be encouraging but it wouldn't be right to smile. She nods sternly at them, spotting her haggard reflection in the glass; she's paler than normal, black strands falling over her face and eyes. She needs to do better. The Normandy is a skeleton crew. She refuses to lose someone else.

Now isn't the time to think of Thane. What the hell was she thinking getting involved with a dying drell assassin mourning his dead wife? The Illusive Man garnered some of the most dubious individuals in the galaxy. She never expected an assassin with a conscience. They tended to disagree about his level of responsibility. The night before they went through the Omega-4 Relay she smiled despite her fear, to combat his. His lips tasted like tears.

"Shepard?" 

Liara doesn't move with the cold confidence she did at the Mars Archives. She steps as if not to startle her. Shepard squares her shoulders but can't manage any reassuring smiles. Get it together, Jane. This is only the beginning. "Liara." There's no urgency in her movements. Shepard hoped there might be something Liara could do for Ashley but clearly that isn't the case. She won't vocalize her disappointment. Her eyes feel raw.

It's only the two of them and an unconscious Ashley but Liara whispers. "I know it's difficult but there's nothing we can do. You should rest." 

"Sorry, Dr. T'Soni; I don't take orders from you." She smiles and her lip splits. The brief shard of pain rouses her. She touches it with her tongue and tastes rust. She tries to think of the last time that she slept or ate. Outside the Med-Bay window a young Indian woman locks eyes with her before swiftly looking away.


	3. The Apocalypse is Nigh

The initial excitement of being assigned to the Normandy for R&D has waned. The Reapers are doing their damnedest to make sure that her temporary assignment is final. Even EDI’s delicious voice isn't enough to cheer her.  
  
Earth has been blasted to smithereens (just about, anyway), her re-match against Polgara T'Suzsa has been indefinitely postponed, and oh, yes, the apocalypse is nigh. Bloody brilliant all in all.  
  
The one shining beacon of light in the whole thing was being on the Normandy with the hero Spectre who has saved the galaxy’s collective ass more than once (twice, tops), but even then, Samantha has been unable to say anything at all to her.  
  
Their only exchange has been in glances as the commander rushes to and fro in her efforts to save the world. The fallen Ashley  ’I’ll-show-you-my-boomstick’ Williams, is currently at Huerta Memorial Hospital, if Joker is to be believed. It’d be a shame for an ass-kicking looker like that to bite it. Worse yet, the sleek and now crispy platform that nearly did her in is lying in the AI core. Samantha verges from wild curiosity to horror.  
  
EDI is more pragmatic though her voice is tinged with caution from time to time. Whoever wrote her programming is a genius. She's nearly indistinguishable from an AI.  
  
 _That's because she is one._  
  
Would Joker lie to her? Probably. But would EDI? Perish the thought. The VI happens to be her favorite person on the Normandy. _The world is ending and you're pre-sulking about feelings that have yet to be hurt? Your priorities are rubbish._

  ** _You’re_** _rubbish,_ she snaps back, mentally berating herself for several more minutes before EDI announces that Commander Shepard has returned aboard.

  
Samantha steals a look at herself in the Medical Bay window. _Your vanity is eternal_. But it isn't a matter of vanity. The first time she meets (meets-meets) Commander Shepard, she should look professional: groomed and ready for duty. _Tell yourself whatever you like_. "Quiet, you."  
  
"Pardon, Specialist Traynor?"  
  
Samantha looks at the ceiling apologetically. "Not you, EDI. I'd never tell you to be quiet," she gives a soft sigh a pleasure. "I could listen to you talk all day."  
  
"The feeling is mutual."  
  
"Is it?" She smiles before considering, lowering the data pad she studies. "Are you _sure_ you're a VI?"  
  
Seconds pass. "Yes."  
  
Samantha nods, looking pensively back at the platform that still practically sizzles in the AI core. _Is that the figure gynoids get these days? How is anyone expected to focus?_ She dreads the day a body like that is paired with a voice like EDI’s. Her brain would fry. _Your brain?_ She's tired of her own attitude. "As much as I'd like to keep poring over this, it's time for me to get back to the CIC. We’ll pick up later?"  
  
EDI agrees and Samantha hastens her footsteps to the second floor. A cluster of the crew is crowded around the steps. Normally she’d stop by and chat but Westmoreland and Campbell have recently introduced her to Skyllian Five games that she's surprisingly lousy at. Her credits have declined faster than her 'literally, there is no worse thing than plaque' attitude. At this rate she’ll never get that bloody toothbrush. So she stands at the elevator, pushing the button with urgency, knowing that it won't make it come faster, only make herself feel better.  
  
When the doors slide open she's face to face with Commander Shepard, Liara T’Soni and James Vega. All sweaty from some heroic thing they've no doubt surely returned from doing and they're catching her being late. _Damn it._  
  
James moves to the crew milled around the steps while Liara gives a sidelong glance to both women before exiting. Samantha bites her tongue, ignoring the flush crawling up her cheeks. She wonders if Shepard and the asari are involved.  
  
Commander Shepard holds her helmet at her side. Her pale and surprisingly smooth face is glazed with sweat, strands of black hair stick to her forehead and flushed cheeks. Her eyes... Are they blue or grey? _Don't stare! Are you out to embarrass yourself? Say something. Say **anything**. You need to give her a tour. Have you forgotten?_ "Um."  
  
Shepard looks at her, lips ticking upward into something that resembles a smile. Samantha twiddles her fingers.  
  
 _{ Uh, Commander? Got Hackett on the comm for you? }  
_  
Joker! The elevator doors open at CIC. "On my way," Shepard steps out of the elevator without so much as a glance back.  
  
 _Damn it._ On a positive note, Shepard will probably not notice that she's late. That's something, isn't it?

 

* * *

A/N: Whoops. So I'll limit myself to less than a thousand words per chapter. Thanks for the kudos', everyone!


	4. Weight

Cerberus is going to be more trouble than she anticipated. Whatever they're doing to their soldiers is making them formidable. They barely made it out of their lab on Sanctum alive. Cerberus is experimenting with Reaper tech. Ashley wondered if Cerberus was working with the Reapers. Despite knowing their past, Shepard doubted the organization she was with only half a year ago could go so far. Maybe she was an idiot.

 She's worried about James. He's pessimistic and hotheaded. He's hung up on the Collectors and Shepard can't blame him. She would have made the same decision but she can't say it wouldn't sting to have sacrificed the people she cared for and have it mean nothing.

 Dr. Michele reports no changes to Ashley's condition. She's stable. It's something. The new communications specialist keeps her notified of all new messages but no matter the constant influx there is never news from Thane. _No news is good news._ She wonders if he knows she's no longer detained and if it would make a difference. She has no idea how to track him. Communication is down everywhere and even if it weren't, he's a known assassin. Keeping a low profile is his specialty. _He's fine. Just hiding._ Chakwas told her to keep a more optimistic view than a realist one but who's she fooling?

 The elevator from the shuttle bay stops on the third floor. Shepard jabs the cabin floor button, belatedly noticing the comm specialist dashing to the elevator. Slamming a hand on the closing elevator doors, Shepard smiles apologetically as the specialist walks in. "Going up?" Traynor nods, her eyes fixed intently on her face.

 "Um. You've got a ..." Traynor gestures vaguely at her face. Shepard's fingers come up. Her flesh is hot to the touch and pulsing. She crinkles her nose delicately and smells blood. She was distracted and James landed a good hit. She hadn't anticipated running into anyone before cleaning up. "Forget to wear your helmet? And erm, the rest of your hardsuit?"

"Forgot to duck," Shepard wipes at her nose and upper lip with the back of her hand. Traynor tsks at the revelation. "Just some friendly sparring. Nothing to worry about."

"I hope not. I don't know how receptive you'd be to 'not in the face'?"

Shepard can't make out if she's serious. Traynor gave her the tour some days back, practically racing through the renovations. Despite her dark skin, her face practically went scarlet when EDI was revealed to be an AI. The blustering was unexpected, if not bizarrely charming. "I've instructed EDI to give me a log of all those... comments you made about her voice?" Traynor freezes, eyes widening. "This is an Alliance ship and that means no secrets and no fraternizing. Even with the ship AI."

"I ah," she twines her hands. It must be a nervous habit. "Um-- of course not. I mean. No. I -- I will follow protocol, to the letter. To the tee. That's the same thing," she adds to herself. "I assure you--" she stops. "Oh, God. I'm so embarrassed. That's probably obvious." The doors to the elevator open and Traynor rushes out, quickly facing her, saluting stiffly.

Shepard waves the salute away. After all this time she's still unused to the sort of reverence her presence can evoke. She steps off the elevator and moves past Traynor, the door to her cabin sliding open. She thought it'd be impossible but Traynor's face darkens further. Shepard can practically feel the heat coming off her face. "Wrong floor?" she arches an eyebrow and tries not to smile.

"Ah, yes, it appears so," she moves backwards to the elevator, muttering under her breath.

Shepard halts in the cabin doorway before moving to the elevator again. Everyone on board is so serious. Traynor is less so. The ship is in dire need of levity. "Relax, Traynor. The Reaper War takes precedent to your flirtatious logs with EDI."

"Then it's clear that you've never seen me flirt, Ma'am. Just to clarify, you were just screwing with me a minute ago?" Traynor asks chipperly. Shepard nods. "Permission to speak freely?"

Shepard grins, seeing the glint in her eye. "Permission denied, Specialist." The pout on her lips is reward enough. "The CIC is on the second floor," she tells her helpfully. "Dismissed." She turns and goes into the cabin, shoulders slumping the instant she's through the door.

The room is darker than she'd like and it's tinged with a cold that's more than just the ship's regulated temperature. A few fish trudge through the fish tank waters. A picture frame sits vacant beside her laptop. Why doesn't she have pictures? She doesn't let herself dwell over the reasons. She checks for e-mails but there aren't any. She retreats to the bathroom and runs the water, wiping the stark blood from her face. A heaviness settles over her, trying to drag her to the floor. She resists.

She's removing her shirt for a shower when she hears Traynor on the comm. The shyness and moxie is gone from her voice as she soberly announces they're nearly to Menae. Shepard pulls the shirt back down and splashes cold water over her face with the hope it's enough to wake her. She'll head to the third floor and pound back some coffee and water. She stares into the mirror, watching the beads of water slide down her face. She ignores the dark circles under her eyes and the emerging sharpness to her face. _All right, Jane. Time to go rescue a Primarch._

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Life Support

_She is grace and wrath._

_Shepard is a Siha. His lungs burn. These days he has trouble breathing. In this instant he is incapable. It's her. Her body is a work of art; the pinnacle of physical perfection. She moves like water. She disappears and reappears like a vision._

_The battle is done. Shepard uncloaks at the top of a craggy pile of rust. Tuchanka is a desolate, dry planet, absent of beauty. It is the home of a faltering race, much like his. Shepard is vibrant and alive in this world. She unclips the helmet from her head, eyes scanning the field and settling on him. Her eyes are like the oceans of Kahje. Her lips tick upward._

_He is an assassin. He is cold. He failed his wife. He abandoned his son. He left his feelings behind long ago. He is a vessel. Only a vessel. But she..._

He thought himself incapable of being struck. Curiosity took hold of him. It was a change of pace from waiting. Waiting for his life to end. He researched her. She was a legend. She was a paragon of justice, honor, things he was unfamiliar with. In the beginning he believed she worked with him because of his prowess for killing.

He takes some pride in knowing that she wouldn't work with him if she truly found him reprehensible. Something inside of him was redeeming, worth saving and caring for. She visited him in the life support room. He liked the quiet but came to appreciate her visits. He learned she was just as curious about him.

_She smiles. Her fingers touch his chest. His heart flutters. He's excited and nervous. She turns her face up to his. His lungs feel as if they have collapsed. "Do you ever smile?" His lips part wordlessly. He is alive again.  He touches her face. The room is cold but she's warm. She leans into the touch. Her hair smells of honey. "I love you," he says. The words rattle her. She looks up. Her eyes are startlingly bright._

The Normandy has docked at the Citadel. He is lucky. He has hope where others do not, despite his impending death. He has tried once more to deliver a message to Shepard. He hopes it goes through. He mourns dying without seeing her one more time.

He stands. He exercises frequently but can still feel his muscles atrophying. He rolls his neck and swings his arm. Heat spreads along his ligaments. He is not what he once was. Then he stops. The reflection in the glass. He turns, hoping he is not lost in a memory. It's her. His Siha. Thinner than before, tired, but beautiful. She puts her hands on her hips. "Thane? I was looking for Tannor Nuara. Seen him?"

"Siha. I--" Shepard takes the two small steps up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her mouth finding his. The kiss is desperate and relieved. He nearly loses his balance to her passion but returns her kiss. When she pulls away to breathe she pulls him close, holding him tightly. It hurts but he is reassured by the strength of her arms. He strokes her hair. Her head is dipped. She listens to his heart. It must be deafening. "I'm glad you're all right."

"Me too." She pulls away and looks at him. "I was afraid--," she shakes her head, "worried--" She takes a breath, trying to find the right words, the ones that won't offend him and mark him as fragile. He curses his lips and face that feel numb. "It's good to see you."

"I sent many messages."

"I received just the one. I only play hard to get before someone's caught me." She takes his hand and they sit in silence for minutes. Thane memorizes the pressure of her hand, the softness of her skin. They stare out at the cerulean skies. She seems to breathe deeply. He smiles, wishing he could do the same. Even now he's lightheaded but is unsure whether it's due to Kepral's Syndrome or their reunion.

"I heard about Earth." Thane watches her. Her expression is serene but she is worn. He knows how hard she must be trying to maintain her composure. Though she isn't spiritual like he is, he thinks she shares the traits of individuals who often meditate. He can't recall a time he's seen her lose her cool. "I am sorry."

"Earth isn't lost yet. I won't lose it," she adds more quietly. "How are you?"

He doesn't wish to tell her how ill he is. Not now. Not when they've just found one another. She has enough worries. He would hate to add more weight to her shoulders. "I am... past my expiration date, as you humans say. But I am well. I would prefer to hear about you. After so many months away... Have you seen any of the others?"

"I found Garus on Menae," she smiles, looking at him. "I'll send him your regards. Liara's back." Thane nods. "And EDI has a mobile platform now. Same one that put Ash in the hospital a few weeks back. I'm going to have a hell of a time explaining _that_ to her. Some old faces. Some new faces. There's a specialist who got caught on the ship while working R&D."

"A lucky circumstance."

"She has a crush on EDI."

He chuckles. "Just on EDI?"

"Well, she's got a few bad boys to pick from but I can't speak for her. She's all right." She gets to her feet. "It feels like years since I've seen you." Thane doesn't say that the sentiment isn't shared. He has been blessed and cursed with his memory. "Do you stay here?" He shakes his head. "Can we go somewhere?" she asks more quietly. She's pale and it always gives her away. Her cheeks color.

He is flattered. He is afraid he'll disappoint her. His head throbs. He gets to his feet, her hand still in his. "I have an apartment," he tells her. They start to walk to the elevator. "What about your friend?"

"She's made it through the worst," though he sees the guilt flash in her eyes. He is sorry to have said it. "They want to make her a Spectre so she's probably in better shape than I am." She makes it sound like a joke but he knows it isn't. "You're one of the things that's kept me going."

He knows the feeling well. "We'll return soon," he tells her, leading her to the elevator. Once the doors close he anticipates there will be another kiss but her eyebrows are furrowed. She's worried.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Air

His apartment is simple. Unlike some of the other squad members on the Suicide Mission, he did not receive payment. His actions were ultimately selfish; he wanted to cleanse his sins, atone for his past harmful actions. He is still sought by his enemies. It would be foolish to broadcast his location to the galaxy. Furthermore, he has Kolyat's safety to concern himself with. He refuses to be a burden on those he cares for.

Shepard takes in the sparse apartment. She's cautious. Life has made them that way. He sometimes forgets that she has also suffered great loss: squadmates, friends, her family. She's on edge. Once again, Thane is flustered. Only his departed wife had the same effect. He never expected to care so much for anyone, much less a human. She has a way of transcending all expectations.

The door to the apartment is barely closed before she kisses him, gentle and urgent. He has concerns but he must forget them for the time being. He owes her this, at the very least, nor can he deny that he also wants to share this time with her. She pushes the jacket from his shoulders, her fingers grazing along his chest.

He nearly falls into memory and curses his inability to control it at times. It would be poor to cripple this moment when he could have another memory to recall and comfort him at a later time. He hopes he will not be tormented by this experience. He bites back a cough and she stops to look at him, concern softening her features. "It's nothing," he tells her.

She's unsure but he kisses her again. Her lips part. Her tongue is warm but he has difficulty feeling her touch through the tingling. His kisses become vigorous; as if trying to convince himself. She moans softly and he delicately pulls the blue Alliance shirt from her pants. Shepard raises her arms obediently and the shirt is cast aside.

The next few minutes progress more quickly. They both have limited time though for different reasons. They remove each others clothing and then, with a gentle hand to his chest, she pushes him to the bed. He smiles. She has become bolder. "I love you," she tells him. Her eyes are sad. Does she regret her love? Does she regret their inevitable parting? Or his? 

He brings a hand to the back of her neck and guides her closer. They are one now. His body flushes with heat. He has missed this. Her weight. Her breath. Her scent. The sounds she makes as they move together. Thane takes a hold of her hips as she cups his face with her hands, staring into his eyes. He had never thought his eyes unremarkable until he met her. So many fragments of color, so much emotion brimming in them. Their breathing grows faster as they increase their rhythm. Her face is flushed, lips the color of cherries.

He makes a small groan. "You all right?" she asks him breathlessly. He bites his tongue and nods. He will not let his body defeat this moment. He will not ruin what may be their last time together. He pulls her closer and her breath hitches. He memorizes her heat, her body is strong and primed, despite the wear. She is exceptional... and he.... 

"Siha--" he can't breathe. He has confused her. She thinks things are moving to their natural progression but he can't get any air into his lungs. His heart strains. He is becoming disoriented. No. Not now. Not this now. He thinks briefly of Arashu, begs silently for some aid, but he is not heard. She notices. Her eyes widen, movement's ceasing. He turns to the side and gasps for breath.

They're separated. The moment is broken. He has little time to live so the memory will not torment him so long as others have. She speaks his name but it sounds at a distance. He swings his legs to the side of the bed and hopes he doesn't vomit. That would destroy everything. Strange. He never thought himself a dramatic man. Perhaps dying will do that to a person. There's little time to spare for imperfections.

"I'm all right," he tells her, but his voice is broken and wispy. He balls his fist several times, hating that they could not complete their lovemaking. "I just need a few moments."

"I shouldn't have pushed you. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

"That your man was capable of being a lover. I'm afraid Kepral's Syndrome has taken even that from me." It is a battle not to cry but he refuses to allow this last indignity. He clenches his jaw, stretching it before squaring it once more. She presses to his back, chin buried in the crook of his neck. He touches his forehead with the palm of his hand and begs for the tears to remain dammed. "I am sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about." She wraps her arms around him. Her chest falls and rises. Eventually he feels his breath return to him. She pulls him back into the bed and lies beside him, a hand resting on his stomach. "I was..." he looks at her but she gives a subtle shake of her head. "You should have told me how..." she bites her lip. "Let's just lie here." He shifts, stretching an arm beneath her head and cradling her closer. "I don't have much time," she tells him apologetically.

"I know." Thane considers other venues. He is still able to pleasure her without physically exerting himself but the moment is ruined. She will not allow him to. She will mark this moment in her memory and begin distancing herself. It won't be intentional. It is a safeguard. He wonders if he has the courage to end things before time does. "If I were capable, I would join your in your fight."

"I know." She brushes her lips over his cheek. 

He frowns.


	7. Tree House

Commander Shepard has been impossible to get hold of. It's ridiculous. The ship isn't _that_ large and outside of rescuing Primarch Victus things have been relatively slow going-- out on the field, anyway. The Commander's vidcall list grows lengthier by the second. Hackett this, Captain Anderson that, not to mention all the alien diplomats that Shepard tries desperately to communicate with. _That_ meeting is forthcoming and that more than any battle seems to have all onboard particularly rattled.

"You have not spoken to Shepard yet," EDI points out. Samantha sits in the lounge room, scrolling through her data pad. EDI's new mobile platform is incredibly distracting. It's like her worst (best) dream come true.

EDI knows that Samantha has been trying to speak to Shepard about the signal coming from Grissom Academy. _Maybe it's good that you haven't caught up with her yet. You could be wrong and you'll make a complete ass out of yourself._ She does have a talent for that sort of thing. She bites her lip thoughtfully. "You should tell her. You had a hand in it too," she says, "and if my suspicions are right-- well, we shouldn't waste any time. Not for vanity." But how she loves her vanity!

"You are correct. However, she has been unreachable since returning from the Citadel." She gazes at the ceiling. "She visited her cabin momentarily, but I did not feel it was appropriate to follow her inside in this platform." _Oh._ Samantha considers the imagery momentarily. EDI studies her arm experimentally. "I have been attempting to imitate organic life as closely as possible. The crew has been giving me a great deal more attention since I seized this platform."

"It is a step up from your last one."

"Was that a joke?"

 _Yes._ She clears her throat and shakes her head. Most of the Normandy crew got shore leave on the Citadel. She was stuck aboard scrubbing communication channels and digging through the endless pile of e-mails directed toward Commander Shepard. At the very least the last one she sent her way seemed to cheer her spirits greatly. _I'm keeping up the morale of the most important person in the galaxy. I'm a bloody hero._ "You know what I mean," she hopes EDI doesn't, actually. She's readying herself to clarify further but is saved by the entrance of James and Garrus, in the midst of what appears to be another dick measuring contest. She grimaces gently at the thought.

"Hey, Traynor," James calls out. "Up for a game of Skyllian Blitz? Come on, I can't be the only cleaning Garrus out." Garrus snorts.

"I would like to play," EDI volunteers.

"Uh..." James exchanges a look with Garrus. "No offense, EDI, but I don't think either one of us would stand a chance in hell of beating you."

"That is correct," EDI's voice is momentarily dark.

Samantha grins, quickly exiting the room lest she be drawn in by their mischief. She'd love to play card games but James is a shark and she'd like to have _some_ credits if she _ever_ gets shore leave. What she needs is some peace and quiet but the ship is surprisingly lively today. She decides to duck into the Life Support room. It's her go-to in emergencies and there's next to nothing in it. Reinvigorated, she strides in, playing with the data pad again. She's almost _positive_ that the signal has been faked. But by who? Cerberus...?

She doesn't have the opportunity to finish the reading material as she literally walks into Commander Shepard. _Oh, bloody hell. Really?_ The Commander has never utilized this room (to her knowledge) so of course it makes complete sense that she's here. Samantha appears to have caught her in the midst of dumping some syringes and bottles of pills into the appropriate dispensers. _Oh my God. Is she doping?_ Shepard is as paralyzed as Samantha feels and looks as if she's just finished a shower. Shepard pulls the ear buds away and looks at her. The room is dark but her eyes seem to glow. They're usually so friendly. This time, Samantha is alarmed by them. She can't make herself speak. "What are you doing here?" Shepard demands.

"Um. Uh." _Oh, great. Great! Please continue to blather incoherently!_ "I'm sorry. I... it's quiet in here. I like to go in here because it's quiet." _In addition, you might say 'Here it is quiet, so I like to go in here.' You're mortifying._

"This isn't a tree house, Specialist. You don't come in here to get space."

Samantha can't tell if she's angry or humiliated. She never had a tree house. Always wanted one, but if she were to choose one, it well wouldn't be a life support room. Everything seems off. She parts her lips several times to say something. "You're right. I'm sorry," is all she can come up with. Her heart is beating too quickly and she feels sick. "I-- are you all right?"

"Did I give you permission to talk back to me?"  Samantha's face burns. Shepard looms over her. Samantha glares at the floor. She isn't sure whether saying 'no, ma'am' would be grounds for another reprimand. Hadn't they been somewhat friendly the other day when she'd accidentally taken the elevator up to her cabin? Now she feels like an idiot. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you, Specialist."

Samantha lifts angry eyes to her face. Some of the anger fades. Shepard looks... out of sorts. Sad.

"Commander." EDI's voice comes over the intercom. Shepard steps back, rattled, as if waking from some nightmare. "Specialist Traynor has been looking for you regarding a suspicious signal she intercepted. I believe any tree house fantasy may have been secondary."

 _I love her. I **love** her. I'm a strong, independent woman that doesn't need saving (except from Reapers and apparently Commander Shepard) but I love her. AI organic love. _ She wonders if there are extranet sites devoted to the matter.

Shepard isn't as smitten. She glares at the ceiling, swallows and takes the music player from her hoodie pocket, winding the earplugs around it. "Noted, EDI." Her voice remains clipped. She wipes at her face and then looks back at Samantha. She grits her jaw before reclining against the wall and sliding to the floor. She pats the spot beside her.

Samantha bites back a tree house comment. "I'll stand if it's all the same, Commander." Shepard nods without looking at her. Samantha takes a breath. "So... it may be nothing..."


	8. Grissom

She misses.

Shepard's still honed on the Cerberus soldier. His head explodes into bloody chunks but she isn't the one who took him out. Garrus' voice snickers on mic in her ear. _{ Come on, Shepard. You can't let me have all the fun. }_

Sweat drips down her face. She hears her own erratic breath as she lifts an arm, the shield of a guardian meeting it brutally. Her shields crackle. She staggers, clipping the M-92 Mantis to her back and cloaking. She throws herself into a corner, drawing the Paladin from her side, stepping out. His head is turned. It would be an easy shot. _Take it, Siha._ Too slow. The cloak is heating.

It falls away from her in the exact moment he turns. She clenches her fist and the omni-blade pops free. She drives it into the slot of the shield and hears a squishing, meaty sound.  A vicious kick and the soldier falls back, his shield clattering uselessly at his side. She pants, flicking blood and skin from the omni-blade before it folds back into itself.

A burst of static alerts her to another incoming message. She's surprised to hear Samantha Traynor. { _That was close, Commander. Would it be out of line to ask you to move your ass? }_

"Very," Shepard tells her. She's already in enough hot water as it is. Traynor's 'it-may-be-nothing' signal has turned out to be one of the most rigorous Cerberus coups Shepard has seen. Their numbers are staggering. "How about you let me focus?"

{ _Of course, Ma'am. One more thing: you've_ _got two soldiers heading up on  your six. **Now** , I'll stick to being a spectator. I'll bite my nails after all of this is over.}_

"No need, Specialist. I've got it all under control."

_{ Yes, Commander. }_

Unhinging the Mantis from her back, Shepard lines up the shot on the approaching engineer. The shot is slightly off-center. The soldier reels back but he isn't dead. The other stoops to grab him but his body is riddled with bullets before he has the chance. EDI's form emerges from the smoke, expelling a clip from her pistol. Her lips form a question but then they firm and stop.

Shepard stares at her, momentarily mesmerized. She didn't think a mobile platform like that could make such expressions. She's holding something back but Shepard doesn't have time to dwell on it and ask what it is. For all she knows EDI is speculating on the meaning of life.

"Let's hustle!" she tells the squad. They follow after her. She squares her jaw. It's tender and throbbing beneath the helmet. Jack still packs one hell of a punch. She told her she was an idiot to trust Cerberus. They all did. Shepard protested every accusation but she did trust them. _Was_ she an idiot? Did she think she could fix them? Bring them back from the brink? What the hell was she thinking? You can't fix terrorists.

*

He hasn't e-mailed her. It's like he's giving her time to forget him. The thought appeals and distresses her. His time is ending. She held it together, somehow, when she was with him. She even made it to her cabin. She didn't make it to the shower. She broke before she arrived, her fists curling against the cold metal wall. She slid to the floor and wept.

Then she chewed Specialist Traynor's head off when she caught her in the midst of dumping her regimen. It was melodramatic. Thane isn't dead yet. He was having a bad day. She hadn't known she'd hungered for his company. He can't join her on the Normandy, he can't be with her physically. What's left of them? Is she selfish? She tells herself she hasn't given up. Throwing away her medicinal regime wasn't a rejection of Thane; it was an acceptance that their relationship had to change.

People die, she tells herself. Countless have died in the Reaper War. At least he'll die of natural causes, not at the hands of those machines. Her mouth is still left with a bitter taste. She needs to focus. The Grissom Academy signal was urgent, which means she still hasn't met with the diplomats. Is she putting the world at risk by chasing after these small pockets? _If Cerberus wanted them, it's worth the risk._ The implication of their indoctrination plans is unsettling.

_You were lucky to have gotten out of there alive. Get your head in the game._

The shower helps clear her head. She dons her fatigues and throws her hoodie on, checking her e-mail one last time before exiting. Still no word. _You can write him._ What would she say? She could tell him everything is okay. She could tell him nothing has changed. _That's a lie._ She frowns, listening to the hum of the elevator as it takes her down to the third floor. 

Everything changes. Liara is harder than before. EDI's a gynoid. Garrus is starting to worry about her, taking better shots than she is. Everyone has off days. _Keep telling yourself that._

Liara's cabin is to the left. She wanted to talk about progress on the Crucible but Shepard can hardly think straight. _Suck it up, Jane._ She takes a deep breath but stops when she spots Traynor in the mess hall. The Specialist is fiddling with a GUI chessboard. Traynor's staring thoughtfully at the board when she sees Shepard. She jumps to her feet and salutes. "Commander."

"At ease, Specialist." The woman relaxes, her arm falling back to her side but she doesn't quite meet her eyes. What is it about her that others find so intimidating? "Grissom was a success. We saved a lot of lives. It wouldn't have been possible if not for you."

"I don't know, Ma'am. You're better at shooting things than I am." She fidgets. When Shepard sits at the table, Traynor follows suit, the tips of her fingers, twitching along the holographic chessboard. "I... apologize for interrupting earlier. Grissom Academy looked to be crawling with Cerberus. So many red dots," she says a little breathlessly. "You're always in the fray. You have no idea what it's like watching with bated breath. _Can they really get out of this?_ I'm not used to all this excitement."

Neither is she. "Were you scared?"

"I was... _vigilant_. And you're cocky."

" _I'm_ cocky?"

Traynor smirks. " _I've got it all under control."_ Traynor's imitation of her is terrible. Shepard fights a smile. "Well, I admire all that bravado."

"It's not bravado if I'm not faking it." She isn't faking it, even if Traynor looks skeptical. Maybe it only seems like madness to believe it. The odds, they say, are insurmountable. Anderson and Hackett look scared. Garrus talks about all the lives that will be lost. James is angry. Liara doesn't sleep. She'll believe enough for all of them.

"Touché. I'd hate for you to fake anything." There's a twinkle in her eye and then she's looked away, down at her chessboard. "Erm-- How was EDI? Have you seen that new suit? Oh, why am I asking. Of course you have. The black? It's very... shiny." This time Shepard smirks. "What's she like?"

"In the field, you mean?" She folds her arms on the table, wondering if she's imagining the darkening of her cheeks. "She's great. Brilliant tactician, perfect aim. Saved my ass today."

"I hadn't wanted to say so..." Traynor says lightly. Shepard frowns and just like that Traynor goes nervous again. She begins to gather her small stack of datapads. She's almost on her feet when Shepard grabs her arm. Traynor looks from it to her. Shepard lets go. Traynor sits. "I take it I'm not dismissed."

"Not yet." Shepard licks her lips, thinks. "Look... I'm sorry about before. In the Life Support room," she says quietly. EDI is always listening in but she'd prefer if the rest of the ship didn't know her business. "I had a lot on my mind and I took it out on you. It wasn't right."

"Are you sure? Maybe I'm still bitter about losing my tree house." Seconds of silence trickle by. Shepard can't tell if she's serious. Traynor laughs nervously. "I have got to leave the jokes to EDI. All's forgiven," she gets to her feet this time. "And even if it wasn't, what's my little peon anger going to do to the great commander Shepard?"

"My wager is nothing. 'The Great Commander Shepard' is unstoppable."

Traynor laughs again, all traces of nervousness gone. "I never doubted it for a second," she says with a wink. Follows it with a grimace. "Well, _this_ peon is needed in CIC. May I be dismissed, oh-great-commander?"

"Dismissed, Specialist."

Traynor gives her a sassy salute and moves on her way. Shepard watches after her, not noticing right away that Liara has taken a seat across from her, expression curious. Something more. Then it's gone and she's all business again.

 


	9. Scattered

Shepard trusts Udina less than she can throw him but smiles for Ash, who mentions no less than ten times, how stir-crazy she's become in her hospital room. Her face remains bruised but she can stand and talk. Shepard is grateful. She would have liked her on the Normandy but she's lived long enough to know she doesn't always get her way. At least it mitigates any awkward encounter between Ashley and EDI. If she has to hear one more time how little faith Ash has in her she might start to take it personally.

Nor is she sure she needs another marine onboard worried so desperately about their family. Maybe she's lucky her family was wiped out in Mindoir. A line creases her brow. Ashley snaps at her. Shepard blinks. Ashley cocks an eyebrow. "Your drell boyfriend visited," she says again, giving a small shake of her head. "Seems nice enough."

"My 'drell boyfriend' would appreciate it," Shepard tells her dryly. She came to verify that Ash was alive and whether she'd be joining the Normandy. Answers in hand there's no reason for delay. "If you change your mind..."

"Sure you can handle a Cerberus hater onboard?"

Shepard pauses on her way to the door. "Sorry, LC. You don't have a monopoly on that sentiment anymore." She doesn't look back. Sometimes Ashley is so dense they could use her head as a battering ram.

*

The Citadel is vast. More so than any of the brochures, than any map could indicate. She's being pulled in every direction. Everyone needs something. Refusing at this point could mean taking a hit to their troop numbers; it isn't anything she can afford. She's got Hackett and Anderson breathing down her neck, along with Primarch Victus and every other diplomat from one end of one galaxy to the next. There are reasons for not visiting Thane.

When Liara brings it up, face buried in a datapad as she does so, Shepard is irked. "His medical prognosis does not bode well." She tells her as simply as if she were reading an item off the menu. _What, frog legs?_ she hears Ashley's voice in her head. Sometimes she wants to strangle her. "Have you seen him?"

Shepard reaches across and yanks the datapad down. Liara's eyes don't widen in surprise. She doesn't stammer or blush. Shepard remembers when she did those things constantly around her. "You've really got to work on your bedside manner, Doctor."

"Doctor? You're angry." Liara sets the datapad aside. "I'm not sure we have time for that. I've looked at your schedule. You've yet to meet with Barla'Von and Aria T'Loak is still waiting. I know you don't like her but we need everyone."

"Don't tell me what we need."

Liara stares at her before looking off to the side. Shepard follows her gaze but only sees the artificial blue of the Citadel and the cars hovering like bumble bees along the skies. "Perhaps you should visit him. It might set your mind at ease." Shepard frowns deeply. "Unless Specialist Traynor is more suitable."

She doesn't know what one has to do with the other. "Mind telling me what in the hell you're going on about?" But she doesn't want to hear whatever crackpot idea she's formed in her mind. "Actually, forget I said anything. Mind your own business, Liara. And stay out of mine."

"I will. Once you get your head in the game. EDI's mentioned you've been sleeping fitfully."

"EDI mentioned that?"

"Please, Shepard. You know she's incapable of controlling her mouth." Liara half rolls her eyes. Shepard wants to challenge Liara to deny that she spies on the crew but doesn't want another argument. "She's a Cerberus product. Don't you worry that she might still be communicating with the Illusive Man? Perhaps a few shackles would ease any concerns."

Shepard doesn't agree. She tries not to be distressed at the paranoid thought. Shackling EDI right now, as evolved as she's become, wouldn't feel right. "EDI's not Glyph." Liara responds with a shrug before taking a drink from the glass of lemonade at her side. "How's Feron? You were close to him, weren't you?" It's difficult not to think of Liara's facemarkings as eyebrows. They dip. "I won't make you talk about it."

Liara picks up another datapad and flicks through a few screens. "I've received a few tips on some war munitions we might be able to take advantage of. They're currently being guarded by the elite of the Citadel. They're being wasted. We could funnel those weapons to the parties that desperately need them. Palaven has lost a great deal of their stockpile. Those Reaper beams cut through everything."

"Those items should be donated to the war effort," she says cautiously.

"Those 'items' should, yes." Liara's smile nearly reaches her eyes. "I'm glad you see it my way. Now, will you apply pressure, or shall I?"

"Are those my only two options?"

"We can do it together."

Shepard massages her forehead. "Let me think about it."

*

It's 2:00 hours and Shepard scrutinizes the small pieces to the _Normandy_ model replica. The real Normandy took a violent left turn in the midst of her gluing the wing on. It's slightly off center and driving her crazy. She isn't sure that she can, in good faith, allow it to join the others. Her eyes burn. She's been staring at the model for too long. She attempted rest at 22:00 hours and failed to grasp anything more than fitful snatches of sleep.

She exhales slowly and considers whether she can remove the wing without leaving a mark on the model. She stands with it, guiding it through the air in pretend flight. She thinks of the boy on Earth. Those fucking machines don't feel anything. How else could they snuff out a young life like that? Nausea racks her. Starting the medicinal regimen left her nauseas and dizzy. Getting off it leaves her much the same way. That must be it. The Normandy slips from her grasp. It falls to floor and breaks apart.

Shepard stares at it breathlessly.

Minutes later she goes to her laptop and drafts an email to Thane.

_I died once. I came back. I know we can win this war. Has surviving so much, so often, made me crazy?_

The cursor hovers over the 'send' button.

*

"Good morning, Commander," Traynor gives her a tight salute. Shepard nods in response. She's drained from another night of restless dreams and the black, sour coffee is settling in her stomach with the subtlety of bricks. "Excited for the diplomatic summit?"

"Is everyone on route?"

"Yes, Ma'am. They should arrive within a few hours." She looks her over. "Erm, if I may ask... are you planning for your attire to be..." she considers, "that?"

Shepard's well-aware of what she's wearing: her fatigues, same as everyone else, her hoodie. "Is there a problem with my uniform, Specialist?"

"It's non-regulation?"

Shepard pales as she takes another drink of the coffee. Maker. If the Reapers don't kill her, the coffee will. If not the coffee, Specialist Traynor's tireless observations. "Believe it or not, I know my way around protocol. More so than winking specialists?" Shepard bites back a smile. Traynor repeats the same wince of last time.

"Ah, yes, so sorry, Ma'am. Habit. Erm-- not with you, of course, um..." she looks back wistfully at her terminal, eager to be dismissed and no doubt, Shepard thinks, get out of the awkward situation she put herself in. "I knew in the moment that it was wrong. But I thought it more pertinent to get back to my station on time and _not_ spend _our_ precious timegroveling. I do apologize if I offended, Commander. It was innocent."

Shepard isn't sure she was offended. She can't very well dock Traynor's pay and make her run laps when James sizes her up at every opportunity. _That ridiculous nickname needs to go_ , she reminds herself. "None taken. I know you only have eyes for EDI." She smiles as Traynor waves her arms, encouraging her to drop the conversation. Once again she appears embarrassed. Once again she walks the fine line of appropriate behavior. "What's it like to live with a foot in your mouth?"

"Foot, arms and everything else, it would seem," Traynor looks around wildly. "EDI is my friend, Commander. I'd appreciate it if you didn't continue to ... erm. Tease me about that." She scratches her neck absently, looking back towards the bridge.

"I'd hate to embarrass you." She finishes the cup of coffee and sets it aside. "Don't worry. I have to be on my best behavior today, too. Hopefully my dress uniform will overshadow any fumbling words."

"That _might_ work. Stop by when you dress up, will you? We can't afford you missing buttons or some other faux pas, can we?"

Traynor turns back to the console. Shepard looks down. Her hoodie's on inside out. _Of all the._

 

 


	10. Remorse

He's haunted by his failure. His eidetic memory taunts him, playing over the few blissful moments they shared before revealing the cruel ending.  
  
Ironically, he has felt better, stronger since he last sighted her. He takes advantage of his good health and takes up his physical regimen again. It's not like before. He knows it won't be but it's an improvement. Perhaps he'll prove the doctors wrong again. He tries not to lull himself into false hope.  
  
It is a delicate balance.  
  
His workouts, at least, give him a reprieve from memories of her. What was once a blessing has more recently become a curse. When he met her, he was a man trying to cleanse his spirit of sin. Now he takes comfort in those flashes of memory.  
  
 _He swings his fist. The man dodges left, thinks he's safe. The man has fallen into his trap. Thane's behind him now. He grabs his face from where he stands. He twists violently and hears a snap.  
_  
There's nothing he can do about his eidetic memory. It's difficult to control but there was a time when it was Jane who consumed him. Since their last parting he wakes feverishly in the night, soaked in cold perspiration and filled with regret.  
  
He can still feel the light peck on his cheek. Her dismissal. He once kissed Kolyat's cheek the same way when he was sick as a boy. There was one other time.  
  
 _He will find them but he cannot be hindered by responsibilities. He kneels before him. Kolyat grabs his jacket. **Don't go.** Tears run down his young face. Thane wishes he could feel something but there's nothing there anymore. He kisses Kolyat's cheek, stands and leaves._  
  
Was she bidding him goodbye?  
  
He throws a few more punches before returning to a neutral position.  He draws breath. A familiar burning fills his chest. He suppresses a cough and twines his fingers behind his back.  
  
The calming blue of the Citadel sky does little to set him at ease. The galaxy is on the verge of collapse but he has faith. His Siha will remedy the situation. She'll give her life to the cause though Thane hopes she won't have to.  
  
He considered going to the desert before his death. No doubt it would extend his life. But he worries about her. What if she needs him?  _But what if she doesn't?_ He dismisses any pitiful feelings.He'd like to be accessible to her.  
  
The desert plans were made with hopes that she would accompany him. His time is limited and with the Reapers, it is more so. It seems fruitless to extend his life and see the desert without her. What little time he has left he would like to share with her.  
  
Yet he has not heard from her. There should no longer be any trouble communicating with her. He's sure. His apartment, simple before seems barren without her, despite the limited time she spent in it.  
  
Thane has considered contacting her. She is no doubt the most sought after individual in the galaxy. She is working herself to the bone. There are many things to preoccupy her mind. He is not vain enough to consider himself worthy of being at the top.  
  
Perhaps she needs her space. He should give it to her. It's possible she's trying to create some distance between them. With enough time, with enough circumstances, it's possible her human mind can forget their last encounter, can shelve the unpleasantness that abruptly ended their last meeting. Namely himself.  
  
The door to the apartment hisses open. Only he, and now Kolyat, have access. Thane sees his son's reflection on the glass. Like him, he is a serious man. More so than himself, Thane thinks grimly.  
  
"You don't look as if you've been resting," Kolyat says sternly.  
  
His son worries for him, at times practically smothering him with his cautious attention. An assassin, coddled by the son he abandoned. It's... well meaning. It's... embarrassing. He feels like an old man being scolded by his son. "I don't plan to pass in my sleep."  
  
"You shouldn't overly exert yourself."  
  
Whatever ego Kolyat once gave him benefit to, he no longer does so. Their relationship has progressed steadily, though it has not been without its bumps. His fall months ago scared Kolyat. He's been more vigilant since. His visits are more frequent, though he is often gone and Thane is unsure where to. He doesn't press. He knows he has no right to his son's personal life. It is the price he must pay for neglecting him in the past. "I'll be the judge of that," he tells him.  
  
Kolyat moves to stand beside him. His features are somber. His jaw seems always to be squared in defiance. It pleases Thane to see such a forceful personality in his son.  "I saw Commander Shepard a few weeks ago. At Apollo's Cafe. She was with an asari."  
  
He doesn't see Samara spending time on the Citadel during a time like this. It must be Liara T'Soni. The woman who's carried a flame for his Siha for years now, unbeknownst to her. Joker and some of the other crew were overly chatty during his limited time on the Normandy. "I see," Thane says. She did not visit him. He feels a small sense of disappointment but no anger or surprise. Surprise has a way of amplifying emotions.  
  
Thane feels Kolyat's curiosity and concern come off him. It's dampened soon after and then he changes the subject, talks to him about rumors of a new human Spectre: Ashley Williams. She will be a powerful force and help for Jane. She will lend the assistance that he cannot. Thane discusses the matter with Kolyat. The subject change is not subtle but he is grateful for it.


	11. Paranoid Gossip

Shepard survives the diplomats conference only to be immediately thrust into danger again. The pissy krogan practically commandeers the _Normandy_ in efforts to get to Sur'Kesh. What had been expected to be a clearcut mission to find the krogan females, has turned into another bloodbath.

Samantha is glued to the terminal, despite not being on shift. She puts in her earpiece and watches hordes of enemies congregate around them. Against her better judgment, she patches into the Commander's frequency to give her status updates. The squad jokes about a Yahg? She doesn't get it. The mission is a success but Samantha's heart isn't better for it.

"You have ensnared the hearts of Cerberus, Commander," Samantha says as soon as Shepard steps out of the elevator, pulling her helmet off. Her black hair is soaked in sweat, falling over her face and nearly to her shoulders. She smells disgusting.  _So why so intent on speaking to her?_  "They certainly don't let up."

"They're just trying to get their investment back," Shepard goes to her communications terminal and wipes absently at the blood streaming down her temple. Samantha looks about uselessly for a handkerchief and comes up empty. "Don't worry, I'm hard to kill," she winks.

Samantha wonders if she knows that she winks. Her heart flutters. _Try to keep your impossible crushes to one, Sam. The AI gynoid wasn't enough? Now you're eyeing the first human Spectre?_ "Oh. Hackett wants to arrange a vidcall with you. And you've several new emails."

"I'll get on it, Specialist. As soon as I've hit the showers," Shepard wrinkles her nose. "Sorry. I must smell worse than krogan shit about now."

"I heard that, Shepard!" Wrex calls over. He dwarfs the space, making it look like a miniature set. "And you're damn right."

"You _are_ an honorary krogan," Samantha tries to breathe through her mouth.

"Laugh it up while you can," Shepard retreats to the elevator, sweat still running down her face. "Ever been to Sur'Kesh, Specialist?" Samantha shakes her head. Her family never had much money. Had they, she may have been well traveled. As it is, the Alliance, and the _Normandy_ in particular, have given her the option of seeing parts of the galaxy she would have never dreamed of. "Remind me to take you there after we've stopped the Reapers. It's beautiful."

Samantha stares dumbly at the elevator doors as they slide to a close. Did Commander Shepard just ask her out on a date? After the war? _You idiot. Grow up. Not every friendly woman is hitting on you._ Wrex and Garrus stare at her.She turns to the terminal, swallowing the lump in her throat. The heat in her cheeks is another matter.

_{ Have you considered asking Commander Shepard out, Samantha? }_ The words scrawl on her screen.  EDI! Samantha doesn't blink. She looks around her anxiously. Normally she'd flirt but Joker might conveniently decide to tip the _Normandy_ just as she's stepping off and throw her into the abyss. _{ You are not currently on-duty. I thought the topic appropriate. }_

_{ I don't know what you mean. }_

_{ Your blood and heart readings say otherwise. }_

"Great," she mutters. Westmoreland, passing by, cocks an eyebrow. _And now you've been caught talking to yourself. You should be the poster child for the Alliance. Also, women on a career track to become cat ladies. { You cannot possibly tell that. Can you? }_

_{ Your search history indicates you enjoy strategy games. Perhaps you should have a game night. }_

Would Shepard go for that? What is she thinking? Shepard surely has... someone. Doesn't she? _Yes. Probably of the **male** variety? _  She considers asking EDI but is too embarrassed. _But you're **not** embarrassed by your search history? Wait. Does she have access to **everything**? _ She's momentarily paralyzed. _Get a grip. EDI has more important things to attend to. { I've got some work to do! }_

_{ You're off shift-- }_

She logs out of the computer and tries to ignore Wrex, who keeps looking at her and laughing. "Heh, heh, heh." _What's so funny?_ She doesn't see EDI's mobile platform on the bridge. She stealths to the cockpit and crashes into the co-pilot seat.

Joker pulls his hat off, runs his fingers over his cropped hair before sliding it back on. "Uh, what the hell are you doing? You'd better be prepared to help me pilot this thing at a moment's notice if you're ballsy enough to take a seat." He laughs and tries to usher her away from but Samantha doesn't move. If the bloody apocalypse comes (again) she can _stand up._ "That's _EDI's_ seat."

"I understand that," she whispers.

"Why are you whispering?" he mockingly whispers back. She looks around again. No one is in the parameter. Except for EDI, who like a God, is omnipresent. Her face burns again. "Spit it out, Traynor."

"Commander..." she speaks more quietly, "Shepard." He waits. "Is she... erm... involved?"

Joker laughs. " _That's_ what you came up here for? Hey, EDI--" Samantha waves her arms and he rolls his eyes. "You _do know_ she can hear us, right?"

"Not if we ask for privacy."

He rolls his eyes again. "I'm giving up on you making sense." He scratches his beard. "Kaidan used to have a crush on her. He's dead now," he makes a face. "Uh, that's unrelated. Fucking geth. Liara," he lowers his voice and looks around as well. She feels vindicated that there is another to share in her paranoid gossiping, "has a thing for her? She's never said that or anything but I mean, come on, she went to the ends of the galaxy to get Shepard's body back from the worst scum of the universe." Her body? Ohhhhhhhhhhh. Is this ... a sex thing? That might explain her lingering looks Shepard's way. _So you have a Prothean expert, biotic powerhouse and stunning asari as competition, no big. **Competition?**_ "But I don't know that Shepard's ever paid attention to her. Shepard plays it pretty close to the vest. Last I knew, she was involved with Thane. But that's a secret EDI told me," he whispers again.

"Thane?" More whispering.

"Some brooding drell assassin type? Total badass. He killed a krogan with a toothpick once."

"Oh." That settles that. It isn't as if she can set her eyes on EDI while talking to the smart-assed pilot that has a thing for her. She relinquishes the seat. "My curiosity has been sated. Thank you."

"Yeah, sure. Hey, my morale is slipping..."

"I'll send EDI your way if I see her..."

The conversation leaves her tired. Shepard doesn't strike her as the two-timing sort. _An assassin, you say? But how can he compete with my passion for strategy games?_ Doomed, doomed, she's doomed. _Ah, well. No one is stripping you of your fantasy. She's your commanding officer, remember?_

She's relieved. There's no reason to be nervous. _She's stunning, has eyes like sapphires, flushed lips and cheeks and has saved the world twice. In this instance it's acceptable to lower your standards._ She steps into the elevator as soon as the doors open.

Shepard is there, freshly clean, having slipped into her hoodie. "You know," she tells Samantha, "we don't really have a budget for overtime right now." She smiles pleasantly. Samantha doesn't have the heart to tell her that the elevator doors have closed and the elevator is descending. "Stick to duty hours."

"We all make sacrifices for the war effort," she says chipperly.

"We could suit you up and you could hit the ground running with us sometime."

Samantha laughs. "Oh, right. Here I am: the next human Spectre. My shriek of terror will surely mow the Reapers down."

"Actually, looks like Williams is going to be taking that helm," Shepard muses, amused and distant in one.

"Ah. She must be feeling better. That's good. I know-- I mean. When it happened... you seemed worried." The elevator is notoriously slow. Samantha watches the numbers tick down. When they reach the shuttle bay, Samantha steps out. She hadn't pressed the button but she sure as hell won't let Shepard know she missed her floor.

Shepard steps out with her before just as quickly, jamming a hand between the sliding doors. She almost looks bashful stepping into the elevator. "Wrong floor," she jabs at the elevator button, stuffs her hands into her hoodie. "Back to the grind." She dips her head, contemplative. Maybe just tired.

"Commander--" Once again, Shepard thrusts her hands between the elevator doors to stop it. Samantha doesn't know what she meant to say. _Why Sur'Kesh? Who's the boyfriend? Are you all right? Are you tired? Can you keep this up? You're beautiful._ "Um... congratulations on putting your clothing on the right way this time. I'm very proud of you."

"Oh, piss off." The elevator doors close with a grin on her lips. Samantha smiles faintly, not entirely sure why she feels dispirited.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	12. Battlespace!

The Citadel is massive!

Samantha hurries after Diana who moves with remarkable determination; a journalist's focus! Diana isn't like the reporters she's used to. She's blase in her reports, absent of the fire that Khalisa al-Jilani wields. She's snark and glamour with her too tight designer clothing. The pumps she wears show off her surprisingly well-shaped calves.

Things on the Normandy have been hectic. There's hardly a moment to breathe. Samantha hasn't spent any time with the few acquaintances she's made. Throwing herself into work has been a wonderfully cliche way to avoid thinking about the end of the world, all her probably dead friends and that she hasn't heard from her parents in weeks. _Lines of communication are down everywhere. Think you could get Commander Shepard to requisition you some QECs for your parents? It's not like the war effort needs them. After that, she'll  blow off saving the world and jump you to Horizon so you can drop them off. She could meet the parents! **What? Why?**_

"Move your ass, Sam. News doesn't wait."

"I thought this was a scheduled interview?"

"What can I say? I'm an optimist and I like to bet on my persuasiveness."

Samantha groans inwardly. Shore leave has been a distant dream since the Reapers attacked. Now that she's finally gotten some time to relax she's allowed Diana to kidnap her-- and talk her into lugging her media equipment around. "Let's get it done. I need to get some time in for shopping. And dancing!" She wants to keep busy.

The Citadel is impossibly long. Samantha hoped they'd be spending the majority of the day at the Presidium but Diana leads her to the Wards. She was born and raised in Horizon and spent her college years in London. None of it was quite so grim. She lifts her eyes to the black skies and the glowing buildings and is happy that at least it isn't raining. "Let's cab," she says. Her arms are getting numb and hot from dragging the equipment.

Diana stops abruptly in front of one of the buildings and flings one of the doors open. Sam jumps back to avoid being hit. "All right, I've had it. Carry your own crap." Diana tosses back an irritated expression before joining her, grabbing the handle of the media crate and yanking it to the elevators. The building looks slightly nicer on the inside than on the outside. The lighting is startlingly bright. It's surprisingly clean. The elevator on the other hand, rattles as they take it up. "What if they're not home," Samantha switches hands on the box, flexing her fingers. Diana's let it go again.

They walk down the slim, black and white checkered hallway and Diana stops, pulls a compact from her purse and examines her reflection. "Perfect," she says with a toothy smile. "This is it." She snaps the compact shut and unlocks the crate. A few button pushes and the camera shoots into the air, hovering behind them, flashing blinding light. Samantha stumbles out of the way in time for Diana to knock on the door. There's no answer and Diana frowns and knocks again. When the door opens she pastes the smile back onto her lips.

The tattooed brunette at the door looks mad enough to beat them into pulp. Oh, but she's attractive. Samantha winces. "What the hell is this?" the brunette asks. What is she wearing? Bandages? A sexy, cropped leather jacket. _Look at those hips!_ Samantha's face goes hot. The woman sizes Diana up and then Samantha, dismissing her even more quickly. "Is that a camera? Get that fucking thing out of my face."

Diana has the balls to turn her back to her and smile into the camera. "This is Diana Allers with _Battlespace_ , here at the Citadel Wards with Jack-- the hero professor from Grissom Academy! With the help of Commander Shepard, she fought off a Cerberus attack intent on murdering the prestigious biotic students in attendance. Jack, can you tell the viewers watching a little bit about yourself and exactly what happened at the school?"

"You can go fuu..." A blue aura surrounds the woman. She glares at the camera. Then looks around the corner at Samantha. "Who the hell are you?"

Diana doesn't miss a beat. The camera shines on Samantha, who looks to and fro desperately but can't find anywhere to hide. " _Battlespace_ viewers, this is a real treat. Meet Samantha Traynor: a communications specialist aboard the _Normandy_ who traced a distress signal coming from Grissom Academy and encouraged Commander Shepard to check it out, resulting in many saved young lives. Samantha, what can you tell us about your role in this?"

Samantha stares at the blinding light. All she can see is white. She feels hot and sweaty, her heart ratchets. How long has she been silent? It feels like eons. _Hi, Mum!_ "Erm--" she stammers. "I'm afraid that's... classified?"

"You're the kid?" Jack asks. She lifts a hand, sending the hovering camera careening into a wall. Diana yelps and chases after it. "Yeah, Shepard mentioned something about you."

Shepard mentioned her...? Everything goes silent, Diana's strained voice going on about technical difficulties seeming all too far away.

*

"I'm shit-canning her."

Shepard barrels down the small corridors of the Normandy. Samantha, who is in a deep conversation with James on the benefits of tofu and similarities between turian paste stares after her.

"Hey, who's balls are you busting now, Lola?" James calls out.

"Now's not the time, James," Shepard doesn't stop. She's on a mission.

James and Samantha exchange looks. "Should we spy?" James asks.

"Definitely." _It's not insubordination. It's curiosity!_ Neither are cats, both will be safe. They creep down the hallway, following her to Diana Allers room. Her quarters are generous, to say the least. She gets her own room, a massive one at that, on a ship where every square inch is sacred! _Not that I'm bitterly jealous._

The door is thick metal. Any spying she and James might have done is useless. The best they can hear is muffled voices. Shepard's is loudest. Minutes pass. Then the door hisses open and Shepard exits. They wilt under her steely gaze. "Don't you two have anything better to do?" she pushes past them and beats it to the elevator.

James and Samantha stand wordlessly before pressing into the room. Diana wipes hastily at her cheeks, flashing a dazzling smile at them.  "Well, boys and girls. Looks like this was my last show at the rodeo."

*

Shepard is aggressively eating a bowl of cereal when Samantha finds her. She takes heaping spoonfuls, crunching every bite loudly. Cereal finished, drinking the extra milk from the bowl, she pours another serving ( _is that Lucky Widgets?)_ before practically ripping the refrigerator door open to fiend for milk. She pours a healthy amount before glancing warily at her.

"You have something to say to me, Specialist?" Shepard digs into the cereal bowl. Samantha moves cautiously around the kitchen island, folding her arms carefully on the counter. "You and Allers were friendly."

"Still are." She laces her fingers. "You're my commanding officer. I know there is likely very little I can say to sway your decision--" Shepard's frantic spoonfuls slow. "But I have to _try._ Diana is a good journalist. Do you _know_ how many people watch _Battlespace?_ Her ratings are through the roof. She's good for morale. With this war, there are few things so precious as hope."

"I get that, Traynor, but she compromised the security of this ship, the security of those Grissom Academy students, the mission and _you._ Cerberus is already up our ass. They don't need us throwing leads at them. For all we know, they'll hit the Citadel next. If they wanted those kids, they wanted them for a reason." She finishes her second bowl of cereal and satisfied, puts it into the sink. Samantha wonders if she'll wash it. "I'm sorry but the decision stands."

"Yes, Ma'am." She salutes.

Shepard looks more deflated for it. "It was a trial basis. Every story had to go through me first. She knew that."

"You don't have to explain to me, Ma'am." Samantha's surprised she's trying to. Shepard has more immediate everything to attend to, and a galaxy to save.

"Hey, at least I didn't throw her out an airlock."

Samantha smiles. "So throw you a bone?" She nearly asks why Shepard singled her out in the roster of those possibly compromised by Diana's report. Did Jack make up that Shepard mentioned her? But why lie about some nobody crew member? _Don't get any ideas._ "I'm going to prelude the next bit with 'I will miss Diana so much' and immediately follow it with 'can I have her room'?"

Shepard tsks. "So much for loyalty. Tell you what, Traynor. You keep finding hidden batches of data, and I'll see if I can make some room for you."

Samantha laughs a dizzying, nervous sound.

 


	13. Distance

_Thane,_

_How are you? Things onboard the Normandy are about as you might expect. We have a talented crew but this Reaper War is taking a lot from all of us. Most days we're running on fumes. You ever see Ash on the Citadel, you tell her she was right about Cerberus. They're all over this war, exploiting everything they can, kidnapping kids, men and women. Did I tell you they've rigged up their soldiers to explode during questioning? I probably shouldn't tell you any of this. You have enough worries of your own. I hope to see you soon. Maybe we can grab lunch when I get some shore leave? If I ever get shore leave. I hope you're taking care of yourself._

_\- Jane_

Thane keeps his hands laced as he reads the e-mail, the first he's received in weeks. He tells himself it would be wise to change his expectations. She spent half a year in Alliance custody. It is not an especially long time to most species, save perhaps salarians, but to a man of... limited time... it was an eternity. He worried he would take a sudden turn for the worse and die before he saw her.

Had the Reaper War not erupted, things may have been different. He had hoped to spend his last days with her but must come to accept that he may not outlast the Reaper War. It is likely he will die without his siha at his side. A grim view. Kolyat continues to scold him about his health. He is glad things have bettered between himself and his son-- but he sees worry in his eyes and how he tries to be strong.

Thane walks the Citadel grounds. His time may be limited but it is his to do with what he will. The Citadel is massive and he never has want for a new area to explore. The citizens appear unworried about the attack on Earth or Menae. It's far away and it is easier to believe there is no threat. Sometimes he passes the monitors mounted on walls and everywhere else. Sometimes he gets a glimpse of his siha that way, clearly tired but smiling and optimistic. She never lets others know how she worries. He is grateful for Diana Allers and her... persistent persona. He may not see Jane otherwise. She is not one to want to discuss military strategy with the masses or talk about her personal feelings when conflict arises.

He goes to the Presidium and takes seating at Apollo's Cafe. Food is beginning to lose its flavor. Perhaps he and Jane can come to this cafe should she get shore leave. The bartender from Illium works at the restaurant. Maybe this is his way of being close to her, to be near those who were once near to her.

He ruminates further on the matter and ponders what response he'll send her. In many ways he feels like a young man in love. He is eager and impatient. He thinks Jane would smile at that. Her e-mail was... distant. He cannot consider it further. Ashley Williams situates herself across him. Her face is still lightly bruised but it is not the puffy, swollen thing of weeks ago. "I hear congratulations are in order," he tells her. They have never spoken and he was not anticipating company.

" _Damn_. News gets out fast. Skipper fill you in?" She picks up a menu and Thane nods. "The next human Spectre to follow Shepard. No pressure."

"Jane speaks favorably of you."

"She also mention how pigheaded I am?" She smiles at his small chuckle and sets the menu down, undecided. "She said you were my guardian angel while I was out." He doubts she used those words. Jane is not a woman of faith but this Ashley Williams seems to be. "Those Cerberus bastards are everywhere. So thanks. I wouldn't put it past them to try to finish me off while I was out cold."

"Jane was ... concerned when you were brought into Huerta Memorial. Doctor Chakwas informed me of your relationship. She has many things to attend to. I hoped to take some of that weight from her shoulders." He considers the Spectre. She presents as brash and outspoken. Jane contains her feelings. She chooses diplomacy and humor when she can. She deflects. "You were with her when she battled Saren?"

"Yeah. Saved my ass back on Eden Prime when my squad got wiped out. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if she hadn't come along. Probably be mounted on some geth husk pole somewhere," she scoots her chair forward. "We don't always agree but I owe her just about everything. Well, her and my pop, I guess. You're in the Williams family, you don't get the option of giving up and walking away. Pushed me through the hard times. Shepard has that way about her too. Guess that's why people follow her to hell and back."

"She has a way of believing for you when you are incapable. One of her many good qualities." It's strange. He isn't used to speaking of her to others. He keeps little company. This woman knows her but in some ways is removed. He can speak openly and takes pleasure in doing so, in knowing that this woman knows of him through Jane. It is reassuring.

"I read your dossier. You get a gig like this and suddenly you have access like never before. Call me protective or call me paranoid. I looked into you." She lowers her voice. "A drell assassin. If someone had told me years ago she'd go for someone like you, I would have laughed in their face. Guess even girl scouts are drawn to bad boys."

"Reformed," he says lightly. He coughs. She glances at him and says nothing when he takes up his glass of water to drink. "She asked that I pass along that you were right about Cerberus. It seems they are creating more problems for her."

"Those assholes. I just knew it. No goddamned good can come of them."

"I respectfully disagree." If not for Cerberus they would never have met. What use would a human hero SPECTRE have for a drell assassin? The organization might be flawed but he can be grateful for that at least. "Perhaps next time she has time we can all dine together. She has suggested lunch, whenever she has the opportunity."

"Lunch?" She scoffs. "I guess that _is_ the time to be the third wheel. Dinner though... you do that, followed by drinks and dancing... now that's a date." She picks up the menu again. "And leave me out of it. I don't want to see you two making eyes at each other."

He and Jane never had a date like that. They are not ordinary people. Life has made them into something else. The idea appeals to him. Dinner, drinks, dancing. However most drinks wreak mayhem on his system and he is unsure if he has the energy for a night of dancing. The left side of his face is numb. Is it Kepral's Syndrome or the confirmation that Jane is removing herself from him? He wonders if she knows he's doing it and hopes she doesn't. In some ways, his siha is too thoughtful, too giving. It would eat at her.

 

 


	14. Grey Matter

Scalding water washes over her. Shepard keeps her palms pressed to the cool metal wall. Her ribs are black and blue from the hit she took from the Ravager cannon. It hurled her into a cave wall, down into a puddle of water. If not for EDI and Liara's quick action she may not have made it. Her lungs were on fire then but the pain has reduced to a dull, throbbing ache. Pain shoots up her back and neck.

Grunt nearly died. The Reapers are enslaving and corrupting rachni. And now she's let them loose against EDI's advisement and sort of hoping for the best. EDI's more pragmatic. No doubt having the rachni war death toll and the krogan rebellion numbers that followed on hand informed the opinion.

The genophage cure isn't ready. It may never be. She isn't sure how to feel about using Maelon's data. His experiments were barbaric but she doesn't have any other option. Meanwhile, she still has to head to Tuchanka to find the turian team. The Blood Pack, Eclipse and Blue Suns are in order. All she owed and likely still owes are favors to Aria. What could go wrong? This war is a mess. She's grasping at straws and hoping everything won't blow up in her face. Anderson is still on Earth.

_Thane is going to die._

The thought is sinister. No armor can protect her from it. It stabs into her when she's reading e-mail, sweating bullets out on the field, talking to colleagues, taking a shower. She prefers battle where instinct takes lead. She doesn't have time to think. Mordin was no help. It was a hail Mary pass at best. She can't be angry at him, only at her own selfishness for thinking of asking him. A desert, he said. Maybe she should tell Thane to find one while he can.

The hot water can't warm her enough for the chill that follows the thought.

She exits, toweling off and throwing her fatigues on. She grimaces as she pulls her shirt on, tucking it into her pants. For minutes she holds her side, feeling her pulse beneath her fingertips. Breathing in deeply hurts so she limits her breathing to shallow breaths. Getting her boots on is another ordeal. She considers sleep but it's eluded her since the attack on Earth. 

The elevator doors open at CIC. The lights are dim with the exception of the emergency lights and the galaxy map. She'd planned on looking at the war data but Traynor is at the map, her arms folded over the railing and gazing at the universe.

Shepard lingers by the elevator doors before taking the small steps up. Traynor nearly hops into the map. "God! Give a girl some warning next time. You scared me half to death!" She puts a hand over her heart, gripping the thin railing to hold herself steady.

"I'm an infiltrator. I sneak." Shepard leans into the railing and looks at the map. The Reapers are eating away at all existence. Some planets have been obliterated. Others are in the midst of being harvested. She'll never see them again.

"I'm surprised you're up."

"I could say the same. What are you up to? Planning out more of your strategy games?"

"Go ahead and tease. I'll have you know I can crush you at just about anything. I'm very competitive."

"I'll put you on the ground team next time. We can take bets on how many Reapers we take out."

"No thanks. I'll leave all Reaper slaying to you." Recovered somewhat, she folds her arms over the railing again. Their arms touch briefly before Traynor murmurs an apology and creates some distance between them. "Did you get my e-mail?" Shepard raises an eyebrow. She gets a lot of e-mail. "Erm-- I was searching the channels and found another errant signal."

"Still trying to work your way up to a better room?"

"You've got it," she laughs lightly. "I shouldn't have e-mailed," she shakes her head. "I know there's a lot to dig through. Anyway, it's on Benning. Cerberus again. We're all surprised, right?"

"What are they doing now?"

"Hard to say. There isn't much communication getting out. The little I have found suggests kidnapping civilians." Traynor glances at her. Shepard keeps her eyes on the galaxy map. A minute passes and Shepard still feels her gaze. She looks at her. The galaxy map lights her face with dots of color. Her eyes are warm and soft; young somehow. Traynor stares back unflinchingly before lowering her eyes. "Sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have said." Shepard smiles wryly. "Do you ever get off hours, Ma'am?"

"Not really. Have you got the coordinates for where Cerberus is attacking?"

"I forwarded them to Joker hours ago. They're just waiting for your go ahead."

"If this is time sensitive you should have come to me."

"I sent an e-mail," she reminds her. "As you may recall you were buried in rachni a few hours ago. And nearly dead in a cave-in." She exhales. "Once we make it through the Reaper War I'll go and get tested for pre-hypertension. It's maddening watching your vitals."

"'Once we make it through the Reaper War', huh?"

"Sure. You said you've got it all under control."

She says it so easily. Maybe she's fooling them all. Maybe all the smiles and jokes haven't been for nothing. They'll win this war but she dreads what they'll lose. Who they'll lose. _Thane is going to die._ Does Traynor put on the same happy face that she does? "You have anyone back on Earth you're worried about?"

"Alliance friends. School chums. No different than anyone else," she bites her lip thoughtfully. "You... and Admiral Anderson are close?"

"Huh?"

"Your face lights up whenever you get a vidcall from him. I'm... sorry, Commander."

"For what?"

"I keep forgetting that you're my superior officer. I don't mean to pry. Maybe we can blame it on my love of excavating details?"

"Hey," her fingers touch Traynor's wrist, "it's fine." A spark shoots through her at the contact. For a moment she's hot and out of breath. Traynor looks to her hand and up at her face. It doesn't occur to Shepard to remove it right away. When was the last time physical contact wasn't an act of violence? She remembers him wheezing. _Thane is going to die._ She removes her hand; her fingers around the cool metal of the railing. "Anderson's a good guy. Hell of a soldier. He's watched over me since I enlisted. I left him behind."

"He insisted. Didn't he? EDI..." Traynor fumbles for an explanation. Ah. EDI. The gossip. "Anyway... what you're doing matters. Not that I have to tell you that. I sit in the Alliance's finest ship and sift through data. Eighteen hour shifts, it's not always easy but I'll take it."

"Someone's gotta do it and from what EDI says it sounds like you're the only one who can."

"EDI flatters me. That saucy AI. Anyway, guess that's that. It's a matter of record. I'm the brains and you're the brawn." Traynor bumps her lightly. Shepard hisses, bringing a hand to her side. "Oh, no. _Oh_ **_no_**. What did I do?"

"Nothing," Shepard says through clenched teeth. Pain flares through her sides, making her face flush hot. Her other hand goes white on the railing. She exhales shakily.

"I'm so sorry. I'm an idiot. You were only wrestling rachni today and being blown up by their bloody cannons and--. Are you all right, are--"

"I'm fine," she smiles as beads of sweat form on her brow. "Just." She swallows. "Think I'm going to call it a night. I suggest you do the same." She makes it to the elevator. "Coming?" Traynor drags herself away from the map, stepping into the elevator and keeping an inordinate amount of distance between them. Shepard hits the button for the third floor. The elevator hums down. Traynor scratches her wrist lightly.

The ride is over too quickly. When the doors open, Traynor practically jumps out. "Thanks for making sure I get to my floor safely, Commander. Lots of blokes who find a girl with an English accent charming. Sorry I broke your ribs. I feel awful. Looks like I'm the brains _and_ the brawn."

"Keep dreaming, Specialist. I think the rachni made their own small contribution." The pain is spreading upwards to her shoulders. She wonders what else they might have talked about had Traynor not unintentionally crippled her. She tells herself to take pills once she gets back to the cabin. The elevator doors begin to slide shut. Shepard punches the button to her cabin, smiling faintly when Traynor halts on the walk back to the crew quarters to glance back.

_Thane is going to die._ She jabs the button to the elevator doors to shut more quickly. _If you screw this up not just Thane. Everybody._ A cold sweat grips her.


	15. Third Wheels

_Siha,_

_I was glad to hear from you. It has been some time. Fortunately, the media is taken with you and plays your interviews when they can. I try not to worry and ignore our companions experiences. Namely that your death was not breathed of until months after the fact. I pray to Arashu for your continued safety. Forgive me my simple prayers. They are a comfort to me._

_I have recently spent some time with your friend, Ashley Williams. She is a spirited woman and I am happy to make her acquaintance. I know you are busy. Let me know when the Normandy docks again. I will make lunch arrangements._

_\- Thane_

The days are bleeding together. Shepard doesn't remember how long it's been since she's seen Thane. Shore leave is meant to be an impossible dream. She feels guilty. She sent Thane word that the Normandy was docking not an hour before arriving. The tranquility of the Citadel is jarring. No rubble, no Reaper forces, no panic.

They're meant to meet at the Presidium, at Apollo's cafe. She's spent some time there with Liara. Liara was dismissive of meeting her father Aethyta. Liara's so different from the woman she met on Therum. Why? She can't imagine having family and declining to meet them. She buries the images of her family's scattered bodies on Mindoir.

She takes a breath. Her ribs still ache from the ravager blasts. She dawdles near a railing and sees them in the distance. Thane sits at a small round table with three chairs set up. He is calm, handsome, while Ashley, beside him, smirks at something. Shepard is relieved to see her. She listens absently to an asari and human woman debate how to tell her Alliance husband that she's had an affair, that she's fallen out of love. The asari doesn't think the time is right. He's on the field and has enough to think about. The human insists on being honest. Neither is willing to take the blame. Shepard bites the inside of her lip, glancing at the women before pushing away from the railing and making her way to Thane and Ashley. Her heart beats nervously, her hands are clammy.

"Hope I'm not too late," she strolls up to the table, her voice unworried. Ashley smiles. Thane is on his feet before she knows it. "Thane," she wraps an arm around his side, leans into him for a moment before pulling away. There's a beat before he pulls her chair back. The gesture is surprisingly sweet. She thanks him and takes a seat. "So, LC. Looking good."

"We Williams are tough bastards. Hope you don't mind that I'm tagging along for this little adventure?"

"Not at all. Besides, it's not like I could stop you if I wanted to."

"I invited her," Thane scoots his chair discretely closer to Shepard's. "She has kept me company on her off duty hours."

Relief and a hint of jealousy ripple through Shepard. She forces a smile. "Didn't think Spectres ever got down time. Looks like you got the better benefits package," she picks up the menu and glances at Thane's hand when it covers hers. Her fingers curl gently and he removes it. She glances at him. "How have you been?" she murmurs. They have never spent too much time with others and she's unsure of how sensitive he is when describing his illness to others.

"Very well. I have returned to a modified version of my fitness routine. Ashley has taken me to the Citadel skylines to go shooting." He laces his fingers before him, glancing at her. "She is capable."

"Is that a challenge I hear? Oh, this will be good. I think I'll have fun showing up the drell assassin. Just promise me there will be no hurt feelings?" Ashley asks. He chuckles.

Shepard smiles faintly. They seem happy. She only had a few weeks with him, a few weeks to attempt to be normal. Then Ahratoht happened, followed by imprisonment and the Reaper War. She wonders if they ever had a chance. Was it over before it started? She thought of him often when she was in Alliance custody. Was she unfair to not give him the opportunity to end things? "Just so long as you know that I'm the best shot around, you two are free to have your little pissing contest."

"I think someone needs to be taken down," Ashley looks to Thane for confirmation, who smiles in response. "So, Skipper, think you could stand to give a guy a little warning? An hour before docking isn't much time to prepare."

Shepard looks at Thane, who is still, but gives a small shake of his head. "It is no trouble. I would have liked to prepare something more... elaborate but this will do."

"It was spur of the moment," she apologizes. "Anderson wanted me to take a look at his apartment in the Wards. Hackett insisted we get the Normandy looked at. We've had a lot of close calls lately. Hell, we're only at the beginning of this thing. We can't afford the Normandy taking any kind of damage that can risk the mission. I'm just happy to see you two."

Ashley picks up the menu. "I would literally kill for a steak right now. Protecting the Council is great and all but their idea of delicacies leaves something to be desired. You two should pick something too; I'm starving."

Shepard's stomach is queasy, the idea of food turning her stomach. "You two go ahead. I'll stick with some water. I just ate," she explains. It's a lie and her stomach churns after having spoken it but she doesn't know how to explain. She's happy to see him, looking healthy. What was she expecting? She wonders if this will be the last time to see him.

"Very well," he says soberly.

The silence is heavy. She picks up the menu regardless, tucking a lock of black hair behind her ear. The shouting of her name makes her look up. Diana Allers is several feet away, an arm raised with a mortified Samantha Traynor beside her. Shepard stiffens, sees the two women exchange words before Diana approaches, Traynor reluctantly following. Diana wears a body hugging white dress and attacks her with a dazzling smile. "Diana Allers." Shepard says. "Small world."

"Smaller by the second, thanks to you," Diana ignores the rest of the group to focus on her. "Battle Space ratings have sunk! I have the network looking at me, telling me to fix it but how can I? Being on the Normandy is the pinnacle of journalism. There's no way of clawing my way to that."

"It was a trial period," Shepard reiterates. Traynor stands beside Diana, arms folded behind her back hoping not to be noticed. An icy feeling moves over Shepard though she can't identify the reason.

"You were the reason I saw my siha," Thane volunteers. Traynor glances at her. Shepard sets the menu down, her face warming. He gets to his feet and nods. "You have my gratitude." His gaze falls on Traynor who straightens. "We have not met. I am Thane Krios. You are an Alliance soldier?"

"Erm, yes, communications, R&D. Samantha Traynor," she extends a hand but he shakes his head.

"I apologize. Contact between drell and humans is... complex. We would both have a negative reaction."

"Oh!" Traynor takes her hand back. "Sorry."

"Not at all. You are the Specialist caught onboard the Normandy?" he asks. Shepard doesn't know how he knows that. Did she tell him? His memory is perfect, hers, becoming more shaky with the things she doesn't want to remember, with the onslaught that is every day. "Jane mentioned you some time ago."

"I mentioned a lot of people," she clarifies. Thane looks at her while Ashley introduces herself to the new faces.

"Joker told me you're a complete bad ass," Samantha says. Why did Joker tell her that? "You killed a krogan with a _toothpick_? That's _incredible._ I guess there _is_ someone more frightening than Commander Shepard." She looks ready to slap Shepard's shoulder, before rethinking and straightening. "Anyway, it's lovely to meet you. Think you could encourage our resident insomniac to get some rest?"

"Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?" Shepard asks. Her hand itches. She looks at it and sees that it's gone red, small bumps crawling up her skin where Thane touched her. She'd forgotten what it was like to be without the medicine. Her body is adverse now to his wanted contact. "I didn't know you had shore leave."

"Everyone's working on the ship. I slipped away to look for that toothbrush I wanted. The Cision Pro Mach 4? It's still out of stock," she laments. "I finish that and it's back to the ship with me. I ran into Diana and... well, you know how she is."

"I'm right here," Diana reminds them.

Everyone is.

Thane suggests they join them.

 

 


	16. Shadows

Samantha Traynor opts to leave but Diana stays. Thane is unsure if the tension in Shepard's shoulders is Traynor's departure or Diana's presence. Diana continues to plead her case to join the Normandy while  Shepard and Ashley debate Cerberus. He is happy that Shepard is able to reconnect with Ashley but is impatient to be alone with her.

He eats salad while the women talk. Ashley is soon called away by the Council and Diana, exhausted by her negotiations, departs. "I did not intend for lunch to be so eventful," he tells her. He considers apologizing for inviting Ashley but doesn't think it's necessary. They're all friends and Shepard appeared grateful for her presence.

"I'm not sure it's possible for anything to be uneventful if Ash is around," she gets to her feet. "I only have a few hours. EDI and Traynor are gathering the war data. It's a lot to sift through and every time I think to do it there's another fire that needs putting out."

Thane abandons the remainder of his salad and stands. More quickly than his body is ready for. A wave of dizziness washes over him. He grips the table in what he hopes is an inconspicuous way before righting himself. "Leaving so soon? You mentioned an apartment. I was hoping we could spend some time together." It's been so long.

Uncertainty touches her eyes and then she smiles, touches his arm. "I forgot all about that. Yeah, why not? Let's check it out."

She cocks her head to the elevators and they walk together. Specialist Traynor stated Joker mentioned him. He wonders if Shepard has. Then again, he reasons, it would border on inappropriate. A superior officer discussing her relations with a subordinate. "Diana Allers seems a persuasive woman."

"Not as persuasive as she'd like."

"She did a piece on the Grissom Academy students." Now that he thinks on the vid, he remembers Specialist Traynor, nervous and paralyzed by the camera in her face. "Traynor was responsible for their rescue."

"Traynor?" She seems to consider that. "I did some legwork too."

He smiles faintly. "Naturally." They arrive at the elevators and he is grateful it is only the two of them. She keeps her distance, appearing pensive as the elevator doors close. He expects a kiss. He has lost himself in memories of their previous encounters. The softness of her lips, the smell of her perfume, the brightness of her eyes. It is a comfort that combats their last experience together. Now her eyes are turned away, no doubt her thoughts are entrenched in all the work she must do. _Think you could encourage our resident insomniac to get some rest?_ Shepard teased Traynor in return. Do they spend their nights together? His heart aches at the thought. "You have difficulty sleeping?" he asks. She glances at him, surprised. "The young Specialist made mention."

"Hard to sleep when you've been single handedly tasked with putting an end to the Reaper War." She sighs, her hand coming to the back of her neck to massage. "I've had a lot on my mind," she says more quietly.

"I am at your service should you need to talk. Process." But will she? _I probably shouldn't tell you any of this. You have enough worries of your own_ she wrote. "It pleases me to be there for you in what way I can."

"Yeah. Thank you," she says quickly, then smiles apologetically. "Really." He nods but she does not talk further.

They walk through the Citadel until they arrive at the Silversun Strip. Shepard assures him the apartment is there. He has never visited this area and regrets she must leave so quickly. There's a casino, a bar, games. He is a reformed assassin and she is the first human Spectre. Both have endured a great deal. Both need to unwind more than anyone. He keeps his hands laced behind his back as they walk.

Eventually they reach Anderson's apartment. Thane has never met the man but understands he means a great deal to Shepard. Perhaps he is a surrogate father figure, having lost her own family on Mindoir. "Can you believe this place?" Shepard asks. For a moment she is transformed, bright, radiant and with a child's unbridled joy. He smiles, moving further in. The apartment is larger than many homes he's visited, the design elegant, a place made for company. "This is incredible."

"I take it it's preferable to the cabin aboard the Normandy."

"Are you kidding me?" She laughs. "What place isn't?" Hm. The captain's cabin is always a place of envy. Still, given the sleepless nights, the enormous pressure on her shoulders, he doubts she has the capability to enjoy it like others would during a time of peace. He himself feeds on their memories there. "One day I'll get to spend more than a few hours here. I'll have to show this baby off to the others."

"Perhaps a party," he suggests.

"A party, huh? I like it. A celebration party. After the Reapers are gone," her smile is wan as she stands at the piano, her fingers sliding over the ivory keys. "Or maybe before the end. Everyone together."

One last time. She does not say the words but he hears it in her voice, sees it in her face. He is moved by her strength. He goes to her, wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her. She moans softly, her lips parting carefully before her fingers curl against his chest, flatten and push gently. The kiss broken, he is at a loss. She looks away from him to the floor, her brow furrowed. "I am sorry. After our last greeting..." Is she not his love? Is he not hers?

She is unsteady, blinking around her. She sits on the piano bench, licking her lips, breathing unsteadily. It is then that he notices the rash inching up her lily white skin where he touched her earlier. If she is reacting that way he can only imagine what the kiss has prompted. Oral contact brings hallucinations. "You have stopped your medicinal regimen," he says flatly. He is unsure if the sadness or disappointment is more crushing. Perhaps they are the same thing. Her eyes glisten, her jaw clenched tightly. Perhaps this explains her distance. He had hoped he was a fool to imagine it. "When did you stop?" It takes time for it to leave an individual's system.

"Thane..." her voice is strained.

"Are you ending us?"

"What? No." She looks up at him, her pupils dilated. His instinct is to remain standing. He forces himself to sit beside her. "After last time..." He fixates on her face, unwilling to let himself be drawn into those memories of before. Not that. Not now. "It's not fair to you."

"I'm feeling better."

"You said that last time." She brushes her fingers over her forehead, her breath still unsteady, sweat creeping over her brow. In that moment he feels that their love must be unnatural. He tells himself he is being sensitive. "I love you. That hasn't changed. This just has to change. We have to change."

He keeps his hands on his knees, his fingers curling into fists. "You are worthy of a lover. You deserve one. What you are proposing is... friendship." She looks stung. He clears his throat. "Is there someone else?" Liara? Traynor? Garrus? Had he not hoped for this? Had he not thought to himself that it would be easier for her? The thought frightened him as well. The uncertainty frightens him.

She blinks at him, lips parting. He doesn't know whether the accusation is preposterous or whether she needs time to consider it. "No. There's no one else. All I have is my squad and the war. And you." Silence follows. "I thought this would make things easier for us. I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry."

He gives a small shake of his head. "I expected to die before you gave me up for dead." She calls his name but he gets to his feet. The words wound her. It is not his intention to be cruel. He is hurt. "I've surprised the doctors. It is my hope that I will also surprise you." He laces his hands behind his back. The air in his lungs feels thinner than usual. It would not help his cause to grapple with a coughing fit.

"I haven't given you up for dead." She's angry. Perhaps she hasn't. But she's waiting. She knows it's coming. _Be alive with me tonight,_ she said. She had hope then. No more. Maybe it's the war. Maybe she sees more of his disease than he suspects.

"It was unfair to ask you to love a dying man. You've lost so much already. I cannot blame you for being cautious."

She wipes at her cheek. The artificial Citadel light filters the room orange with the setting sun. It makes shadows of them both.


	17. Insubordination

_Didn't it take the Alliance's Fifth Fleet and Shepard's squad to stop **one** reaper? Now they're attacking planets like a swarm of locusts. I mean, Commander Shepard's good and all-- but I don't know._

Westmoreland and Campbell have a knack for doomsday scenarios. Their optimism makes the turians look chipper. Still... their latest conversation has set Samantha on edge. It serves her right for walking past them while they're on shift to look at the war data. She doesn't need to go to the war room to read the numbers (in layman's terms they read: 'you're screwed') but it does provide her opportunities to run into Shepard. It's a pesky habit she is trying to break herself of.

Samantha's beginning to think Shepard is a machine. Benning, Eden Prime, the daily Cerberus douchebaggery to squash, and now a plan in the works for Tuchanka. The woman does. not. stop. Nor does she seem to sleep. And _still_ she maintains a relatively jovial nature. _Maybe she's mad._ But...

It's hard to think that when Samantha recalls the last time she properly saw the woman. It was only a glimpse. Samantha had just returned from the Citadel. The Normandy was fairly empty save for the engineers doing the inspections. Even her beloved EDI was gone, off gallivanting the Citadel with Joker. She'd been drearily looking through the QEC log when the elevator doors slipped open. Samantha didn't turn around right away. She recognized the urgent footsteps.

_Back already, Commander? Someone ought to show you how to have a proper date._

Shepard hadn't said anything, only fixed her with a fiery look that made Sam wish she could slink into a hole and die. She beat herself up over it for the next several hours, then the following days. God, maybe she's bloody obsessive. The more she thinks of it, the more she can swear there was a sheen in Shepard's eye, a redness that wasn't immediately obvious. Had she been crying? _Don't be daft._

Either way, they haven't spoken since that day, outside of the _'you have mail'_ and ' _Hackett's on the vidcom for you'_. Shepard is indifferent and grateful but the dark under her eyes grows deeper by the day.

Samantha lays in bed at night, staring at the bunk above her and listening to the soft snores of her crewmates. She uses ear plugs when the snoring gets bad or when she can't handle them crying themselves to sleep, or talking through their nightmares. In the morning, they all grumble as if it were any other day. Is she the only one who hears them? Or are they all conspiring secretly to defend one another's vulnerability? Sometimes they tease one another about the crying, the soft moans, and they all jump to make it sexually suggestive. They prefer this and even Sam joins in from time to time. It isn't as fun when they tease her about EDI. _Why that's a -- erm-- my God!_

An excellent rebuttal.

She only wishes she were having illicit dreams about EDI. She'd like to get _some_ sleep. Long gone are the days when she went to school and spas, served drinks and danced, kissed beautiful women. Now she lives out of a shoebox and serves on a ship of legends. Whatever small accomplishments she's had are dwarfed by the squad onboard. _I will save the world in my strategy games, damn it. As I have many times before._

On some days that's convincing. More and more she finds her attention turning to Commander Shepard. Some days she allows herself the small fantasy. It won't ever happen, of course. Shepard has her drell boyfriend and if not him, the icy, gorgeous asari that makes eyes at her (and, Samantha is fairly sure, shoots daggers at her from time to time). Still, better that than dwelling on the crumbling communication infrastructure around the galaxy. The last e-mail she received from her parents is weeks old. It isn't like them.

So she lets herself think stupid ideas and hopes that she doesn't trip into dumb, romantic feelings for the commander. She has accepted that the Spectre is attractive and _nice_ and a hero. But she won't delude herself into thinking Shepard could return any... attraction. How many hero Spectres run around with silly communications specialists? Especially when they have a team of bad asses at their side? It's as likely as Shepard dumping Thane for... she doesn't know, Conrad Verner. Diana told her about him. Samantha only hopes she isn't _that_ deluded.

Not that Shepard is the only one on her mind. The Prothean is onboard. _Javik._ Javik the Jerk. Though Samantha has never seen Liara look so... _giddy?_ She wasn't aware the asari could make expressions. Though Javik certainly can. Contempt. Derision! Scorn! Condescension! All these and more from the 50,000 year old Prothean with a chip the size of Jupiter on his shoulder. _What are you a specialist of, exactly?_ he asked her. She'd stared at him, tongue-tied and terrified. _I see not all humans have mastered the art of speech. The Reapers will make ashes of your cycle._ He'd left her there before returning later and giving her his little 'gift': a Prothean tutorial language program. Liara had explained, some of the ice shaken out of her voice, that it was utilized by the servant races being inducted into the empire. Because that's totally a thing to do. Not that it surprises Samantha that Javik the Jerk is the way that he is. On the rare occasion she does get to sleep, more times than not, the Collectors creep into her nightmares. She squeezes her eyes shut.

"There's no place like home?" Shepard offers.

Samantha's eyes snap open. And the irony award goes to... Samantha gets to her feet, nearly knocking her laptop to the floor. She's in the port observation room, pleased to have it all to herself-- not that she can find a reason to complain now. She salutes. Shepard nods, smiling grimly and entering the room. The oily black hardsuit she wears glistens, the red lights bright against the dark. "Headed into Tuchanka? EDI is providing navigation and support." Samantha is never sure that she's relieved when EDI spearheads the handling. She is perfection. Sexy perfection. But Samantha goes nervous when she herself isn't there watching and warning. _Oh, sure, you were the reason Shepard stopped the monsters twice, were you?_

"You jealous?"

She scoffs. "I'm always jealous when I don't work a triple." Another faint smile touches Shepard's lips and she crashes to a seat on one of the opposite couches. "Fancy a drink?"

"That'd be nice but Garrus is getting cocky and starting to do a headcount. Headless count? Anyway. I let him get a lead he'll be insufferable."

"Not that you're competitive."

"I'm a perfectionist."

"A sore loser, maybe. Not that I can fault you there." She sits. Shepard hasn't donned all her armor yet. Her chest piece hasn't been snapped on. She wears a grey Alliance tank top. Her arms are dreamy. _Stop it._ But she seems smaller without the armor, which is moronic given that the woman has several inches on her. "I heard you got a swanky new apartment. When do I get to check it out?" Shepard laughs. Samantha echoes it nervously, her cheeks heating.

"We ever get shore leave again, I might consider it. That's as likely as, oh, Javik getting a pet varren or something." Shepard sets her eyes on Samantha and then looks off to the card table. Samantha tries not to imagine pressing Shepard to it and kissing her. "What do you think of him?"

"Oh. Erm. He's very...--" _Say anything. _"Direct."

"Javik the Jerk?" Her expression is sober but her eyes dance. "EDI may have made mention."

_EDI!_ Samantha sighs, leaning into the cushioned couch. "He did show me his slaver software. That was... _enlightening._ ' _Primitive human. What is this archaic keyboard you use? My people wrote on water. Evolve faster.'"_ She rolls her eyes. Shepard laughs and Samantha stops, momentarily jarred by the sound of it. Shepard smiles often but her laughter is rare. "I take it you are amused and not offended by what some might consider... -- insubordination?"

"I've got bigger things to worry about than cheeky specialists."

"You mean there's more than one?"

"Not that I've noticed."

_Be **appropriate**. _ "Commander..." _Do you ever worry? Were you crying that day on the Citadel?_ Shepard looks at her. Her eyes are distant and penetrating. "I..." the words are stuck. "Let me make you a drink when you get back? Take a load off?"

A long silence. "I don't think that'd be appropriate, Specialist Traynor." Shepard breaks eye contact and gets to her feet, lingering by the door.

Samantha stares at her back, stiff and tense before Shepard exits. Samantha runs her fingers nervously through her hair. Try as she might, she can't swallow the lump in her throat.

 

 


	18. Fever

A thick silence blankets the Normandy. The squad returned hours ago, their armor caked with dirt and reaper forces guts. Their faces were pale and strained. Shepard bypassed everyone, ordering Samantha to establish a communication channel with Admiral Hackett.

Samantha did. No one's really off-duty anymore, particularly the skeleton crew of the Normandy. She returned to the crew quarters. Liara and Garrus were engaged in hushed conversations. Garrus shook his head while Liara's soft voice spiked from time to time. They retreat to Liara's office when they notice her.

It makes her feel a bit stupid. No matter what Shepard tells her, she's only a little fish aboard the ship. The intel she finds, however valuable, doesn't make up for the fact that she isn't a member of the ground team. Not that she wants to be. The Alliance paid for her education and has given her access to a plethora of amazing gadgets but truth be told, she was never expecting to see combat. 

Meanwhile, Primarch Victus and Urdnot Wrex move around the ship looking constipated because they've been relegated to diplomatic roles. Shepard's only lucky she gets to play diplomat _and_  war hero. 

Her stomach plummets just thinking about Shepard. Samantha doesn't know what it is that she meant or intended by offering to make Shepard a drink. It's the least she can do, given how often the commander lays it on the line. It was friendly, she tells herself, but despite that, she feels the sharp sting of rejection. It's silly. If Shepard has been kind to her, then she's lucky. _War hero Spectre with a drell boyfriend, remember_?  She does. Why can't she just get properly tongue tied around her like she does with the others?

Samantha's sitting at the mess hall, tired and irritated at herself about it when James strolls over, setting a plate of eggs in front of her. She likes James and thinks that if she liked men, she'd consider dating him. He may be a member of Shepard's squad but he's the only one, that like her, stops in awe from time to time, wondering if everything is really happening.

"Hey, cheer up. There's nothing a plate of huevos rancheros can't cure."

"Cancer," she offers.

"Man, you're in a mood," he gives her a fork, digging enthusiastically into his plate. "You and Esteban, are killing my zen."

She chortles. "What zen?"

"What's with you? Hear about the bomb?" he asks quietly.

"Bomb?" Oh god.

"Yeah. Guess the turians buried one underneath Tuchanka, just in case. Pretty sick plan, huh? The krogan find out," he makes a neck slicing motion, "goodbye diplomatic relationships and this whole war effort esta jodido."

"Oh God." Not that she knows what the last meant but if he's reverted to Spanish to emphasize his point it can't be any good. "Um, how is... Commander Shepard doing?"

"Eh, she hasn't checked in with me about it but if Garrus and Liara are any indication..."

"They're usually pretty uptight," she offers, softly, so they don't happen to overhear and murder her.

"Yeah, but come on, this is big. Did I mention Cerberus is trying to stage a coup? Probably trying to set it off." He motions at her eggs and she eats them, despite not having any appetite.

A bomb underneath Tuchanka. Forget the genophage cure. It could wipe out all krogan life on the planet. "So... what's next? It has to be disarmed?"

"Yep."

"But what if--" what if it goes off while they're on Tuchanka? What if Cerberus detonates it? Shepard would die. Oh, and everyone else on Tuchanka too, of course. The air burns hot in her lungs. A blast like that would knock out the Normandy too. She would die. Everyone onboard would die. The second thought is less chilling. Since the Reaper War began that has always been a grim possibility.

"Hey, come on. Lola's got this." He grins. "And if she takes me along, she'll have a little extra insurance."

"Watch her back, all right?"

"Oh, I always do."

She rolls her eyes, thanks him for the eggs, washing her dish and fork as quickly as she can before heading back to CIC. Her station is empty and she rolls her shoulders, massaging them briefly before beginning to peek into the lines of communication. They're lit up, messages being sent left and right. All encrypted. It must be terrifying. 

It's easy to lose herself in this and she's happy that the old cliche of burying oneself in work holds true. Strategy games, her other viable option, would not be as appreciated. She searches for any Cerberus channels that she could possibly patch into but there's so much traffic it's difficult to disentangle them from one another. A significant identifiable quantity is to turian command, some from the Council.

She works at separating what she can. It feels like minutes but soon discovers it's been hours. Eyes burning, she steps away from the console, determined to get herself a cup of tea. She fights to keep from leaning into the wall and decides to ignore the elevator, taking the stairs down instead.

She stops abruptly when she spots Shepard, reclined against the wall in the curve of the steps, shadows draped around her. The ship has always been unnaturally dark. Mood lighting, she's always called it. The bright, yellow emergency lighting dots gently across Shepard's face. Samantha feels awful. As if she'd walked into her naked, only not nearly as exciting. 

She decides it's only appropriate to leave. She looks one final time. It's then that Shepard, perhaps sensing some movement, shifts her face and spots her. Shepard's face is unreadable. Samantha searches for worry, wear and sees none of it. That's most concerning of all.

"I was running for some tea. Not exactly running," she wrinkles her nose gently and doesn't know what to do with her hands. She's nervous, only a few steps above Shepard on that half shell staircase. She ought to apologize for before. For crossing the line, if she did cross it. 

She expects Shepard to push away from the wall but she doesn't. She only nods. "It's quiet here," she explains.

"I'll take the elevator," she says quickly.

"No."

Samantha swallows, giving a barely imperceptible nod and taking a step down, they're separated by four. "Do you usually hide down here? Commander," she adds.

Shepard chuckles softly. "Not usually. I used to duck out into life support."

"The tree house." Shepard's smile is a grimace. "Are you all right? The mission sounded..." Intense. She listened in on their comm channels, hearing Shepard bark out orders, the screaming of reaper forces, grunts, slams and explosions. "It sounded hard." It seems to her it would be easier to admit to something, rather than be forthcoming. All Shepard does is narrow her eyes. "I don't know how you do it."

"There's a bomb." She sounds tired, her voice ragged. Normally Samantha would tell her she knew but she isn't sure that James should have told her, and she'd prefer to hear it from Shepard. Watch her say the words. "If Cerberus sets it off." She stops, shaking her head. 

Samantha takes another step down. "They won't." Shepard looks up at her, eyes like blue sparks. "You won't let that happen." And despite the doubt that has hooked into her over the past few days, despite all the awkward uncertainty-- Samantha knows it, believes that over anything. "You know it, too." She descends another step. They're one removed now. Shepard's gaze pierces into her. Samantha feels like she's going to throw up. Or maybe she's only feverish. _Oh god, please don't throw up._ Her legs are weak.

Shepard takes a breath, lifts her face. She looks like a propaganda poster, radiant and bright, unstoppable. "You all right?" Shepard murmurs. She lifts a hand, her fingers brushing against Samantha's forehead. Samantha takes a shuddering, nervous breath, nearly tripping down the remaining flight of stairs. Shepard catches her, takes her shoulders, steadies her against the wall. 

Samantha is convinced she must be hyperventilating. "You look... flushed," Shepard says quietly before relinquishing her hold. The quarters are cramped. They're nearly pressed to one another. Her head is swimming. "I should go." She seems puzzled to say it.

"All right." Excitement and disappointment heave through her. She's fairly sure she's sweating, despite the cold of the Normandy. They stare at one another for moments. Her lips are dry, she licks them, exhales again. "Commander--" Shepard, who'd been turning away, looks at her. "I'm sorry," _not really_ , "if I've been... I'm sorry about our last meeting."

Shepard nods slowly. "Wish me luck?" 

Samantha smiles wryly. "You don't need luck. You've got bullets." Shepard's friend said that. It applies.

Shepard smiles, turns and moves away, climbing the flank of stairs. Samantha stays, still pressed to the wall, the ghost of Shepard's fingers against her skin. Her heart runs rampant. _This is going to be a problem._

 


	19. Guilt

She awakes in her cabin alone. The sheets are flat beside her despite the restless dreams. Her hand reaches out and finds nothing. Black fills her vision. For a terrifying moment she thinks she's in that forest of oily cobwebs, that the crimson beam and booming shrill will burrow into her skull and thoughts, making it impossible to think.

Eventually her eyes adjust to the darkness. It's quiet, save for the soft bubbling of the aquarium and the steady hum of the Normandy. There's no Kaidan, no sound of children's laughter, none of Mordin's oaths.

She's secured a krogan and turian alliance. Eve has been saved but she thinks she could have done more, should have pushed for more. She swings her legs over the side of the bed and for an instant buries her face in her hands.

She gets to her feet and heads to the bathroom to splash water on her face.

 _Something turians are taught from birth. If just one survivor is left standing at the end of the war then the fight was worth it. But humans want to save everyone. In this war, that's not going to happen._ Shepard's always appreciated Garrus' pragmatism. Now...

She looks into her pale reflection in the mirror. There was a moment in Tuchanka, as she'd been running for the hammers, that she saw smoke. Smoke and a wall of blue black steel. Everything slowed despite the noise and the chaos. She thought _what is that?_ The next instant the Reaper lifted its appendage, hurtling her back, clearing the path. She nearly died then. They could have lost everything. _But we didn't_.

There's a knock on the door. Shepard remains where she stands. "Just a minute." She thinks she waits as long before forcing herself out of the bathroom, throwing on some Alliance sweatpants. Garrus told her to sleep.   _I'll sleep when I'm dead._   At this rate it's looking like that's the only chance she might get. Making sure her tank top is in place, she opens the door.

Liara stands there apprehensively. She was with her on Tuchanka, placing singularity fields and stasis bubbles. Her biotics are considerably stronger than when the two first met. Her eyes were bright then, hopeful. They've faded now, stronger but cold. "Did I wake you?"

"No," she says grimly, inclining her head for Liara to follow. Liara does, moving into the cabin, taking the room in. Shepard sits on the couch. Liara follows, sitting closer than Shepard anticipated. "What's up?"

"... I'm sorry, Shepard. I know you have a lot on your mind. Perhaps this can wait. Tuchanka was..." There's a beat. "Kalros and a reaper between us and the Shroud. I didn't think we'd make it out of there. But I should have known better. You have a way of making the impossible possible. Again and again."

Shepard's lips tick upward. "So the important business was telling me how awesome I am? Noted. You sure you don't have any bad news you're hiding somewhere?" A Cerberus attack, maybe? No, that tends to come from Traynor. She thinks of the younger specialist. The smart assed, awkward, living with a foot in her mouth communications specialist. They manage to keep running into each other. She clears her throat.

"Actually... " Liara frowns gingerly. "Things are... they could be better."

"I've seen the war data."

"It's more than that. Planets are disappearing. It's not just the Reapers." Liara watches her face. Shepard keeps it impassive. "Glyph informed me. People are getting desperate. Leaders aren't waiting for their planets to be harvested. They're... entering negotiations with the Reapers. Creating cease fires. Others – Tyvor. They detonated nuclear bombs. They... everyone's dead."

Shepard wipes at her face. It's numb. "All right."

"That's the worst of it. For the time being. But the Volus have lost Irune. They've begun evacuations to anywhere that can take them. If only the Citadel had more room-"

"Not enough room to provide refuge to everyone."

"And the progress on the Crucible is going slower than anticipated. We need more scientists. The salarians--"

"Not worth it," she tells her, deadly. The dalatrass can kiss her ass for thinking she would betray Wrex, the krogan and their biggest shot at stopping the Reapers for her racist ideologies.

"I know. Of course, Shepard. I know." Her eyes flicker away. "But we have to think of something. If you'd told me before that securing a live Prothean would resolve this-- I'd have believed you. But Javik is no help." 

She rubs at her temple. "Specialist Traynor said a research facility in Noveria is requesting aid. Cerberus," she says with a scoff. "If they're not all indoctrinated--"

"Cerberus agents?" Liara stands and paces, "I'm not sure."

"Neither am I. It's an option. I have to look at all the options."  This war isn't going to allow her the chance to do things the way she'd see fit. _Stand in the ashes of your people and ask the ghost if honor matters._

"I know. You'll do anything. You'll sacrifice anything to stop them," Liara says. Shepard wishes she could be reassured by her confidence. It only makes the awful feeling in the pit of her stomach grow. "We're all... so lucky to have you."

"I couldn't do any of this on my own."

"I don't know. Something tells me you'd find a way." She sits again, as close as before. "I heard about Thane." How, Shepard wonders. She has her suspicions. Liara's voice is steady. "I'm sorry."

"He's not dead," she snaps. "There's nothing to be sorry about." She takes a breath and twines her hands. Liara's hands twitch in her lap as if wanting to take action but ultimately remaining still. "Sorry," Shepard mutters.  

Liara shakes her head, dismissing the apology. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly. No offense, T'soni."

She registers the name. Nods. "Of course. It isn't my business." She stands again. "It's late. There are feeds I should look into. There's a good deal to monitor and not enough hours in the day. Between monitoring the data and fighting on the ground. Everything is so... urgent and there isn't enough time."

"I'm asking too much... You need a break. Next mission—"

"No! No." She takes a breath. "I am happy to do my part. It's only that... I wish there were more time," she repeats tiredly.

"I know." Shepard smiles wanly. Liara has been a good friend. Strong, stoic. She lost her mother on Noveria and retained her composure. She's already lost people to this war. Where would they be without her information network? If she hadn't discovered the plans for the Crucible? "Thank you. Don't wear yourself to the bone, all right? I could still use you out there."

"In that case..." She smiles, turning and walking before stopping again, pressing a hand to the fish tank. "Shepard..." Shepard gets to her feet. "Not now... not tonight but... there's something I've been working on. A project," she says, a small shake of her head. "Maybe sometime... when you're available, I could show it to you."

"What is it?"

 She parts her lips. "It's... when you have time," she says again. "It's difficult to explain."

"All right... You're gunning for intrigue. And it's worked. Maybe when we're both awake-- we can do something that's more than just... war."

"I'd like that." Liara nods. "I remember when we had time for talk. Everything was so urgent then. Dire. It didn't feel like we had enough time then either, but now..."

"Seems like a walk in the park, huh?" How things change. Liara moves to the door. "Hey, T'soni. Get some rest."

"I will. When you do."

Liara exits and Shepard considers going after her, asking her to stay. They're squadmates. It wouldn't be inappropriate. Not like it might be with a lower ranking member of the crew. She's lonely and in some ways, desperate for company. Shepard returns to bed and wonders what it is that Liara has to show her. Whatever it is, now, tonight, doesn't seem like the right time to find out.

_It was unfair to ask you to love a dying man. You've lost so much already._

She keeps turning Thane's words over in her mind. They fractured her. That sick feeling fills her still. Is this how he feels constantly? They spent time together in this cabin. He made love to her. She woke in the middle of the night to find him there. When he was afraid she touched his face, his chest. She kissed him. _It's going to be okay,_ she said. There was a time she believed it.

_It was unfair to ask you to love a dying man._

He ended it. But what did she contribute? Panic eats through her. Guilt burrows. There's another feeling she can't place. One she's terrified to identify.


	20. Fear

_Thane is going to die_.

Shepard exhales shakily. She's seen his tears twice. The night when he cursed his own illness, before they went through the Omega-4 relay and the last time they spoke. Did she give up on him? Should she have stopped her regimen? It was the right thing to do. _You gave up on him._ No. She doesn't give up on people. She was being realistic. _I need daily medical attention,_ he said. All she abandoned was the physical component of their relationship. _What you are proposing is friendship._

The elevator doors open on the third floor and she moves to the kitchen. The area is abandoned and she's grateful. Wrex, Eve and Victus are gone, Chakwas has the full use of her medical lab again. She's tired of getting arm slaps from the well meaning crew with congratulations on the new alliance between krogan and turian.  _I am the very model of a scientist salarian..._

She exhales sharply and rubs her eyes, her forehead and begins to pull open the cabinet doors, searching for a bowl. A stack of dirty dishes sit in the sink. Shepard stares at them before finding the sink plug and running the hot water. She dumps in dish soap and watches the foamy bubbles form. When she was a private they made her do this. She hated it. She wanted more. She wanted better. Now, she almost envies them. How much easier would life be if no one had any expectations of her?

_Had to be me. Someone else might have gotten it wrong._

She bites her tongue, hands buried in the scalding water. Is that going to be her fate? To walk into a crumbling tower and sacrifice everything for the galaxy? A small price to pay. A rest at last.

A sneeze draws her attention. Traynor, carrying a saucer and a tea cup, moves drowsily in her direction, sneezing again, and wiping at her nose with a ball of tissue paper. "These your dishes?" Shepard asks.

"What?" Traynor seems to notice her then, sniffles and meanders over. "Oh, God. Yes. I meant to do them earlier but I don't think my cold medicine combined with the antihistamine did me any favors. I passed out cold for a few hours. Sorry," she attempts to shoo her away, sneezing into her arm in the process, but Shepard doesn't move.

"Glad you managed to stay awake for the Tuchanka operation."

"With the way the Normandy was swinging, even the dead would have risen." She sneezes again and holds on to the counter. It'll have to be wiped down. "You came through again. I'd congratulate you but you have enough ego as it is."

Shepard finds a sponge. "I'm hurt. I'll pretend it's the cold medicine talking."

"If not that, the fever?" 

Shepard looks at her. So. Last time Traynor wasn't clumsy or nervous. Only ill. That's reassuring. She thinks. "Not feeling well?"

"Could be better. On the up side, I didn't have to duke it out in the midst of thresher maws and giant reapers. I'll take a fever over that any day."

"Is that so?"

"Erm-- it's not as if I have an itch to catch fevers or anything. Still, slightly less formidable than the monsters you have to deal with. Maybe if I were a little more bad ass-- Commander," she says the rank, as if remembering to tag it on, "I'd be less inclined to opt for the fever."

"You can't fight a fever with bullets," Shepard says grudgingly.

"But tea, chicken noodle soup and a crapton of sleep seem to make for formidable allies." She smiles wanly. "Makes me miss my mum. Or being a kid, really. There are perks to being an adult, don't get me wrong, but being tucked into bed and _pampered,_ " she sighs wistfully. "I suppose that isn't limited to childhood either." She's momentarily contemplative, her lips settling into a gentle pout. "Do you -- with all that's going on-- are you worried about your family?" She asks tentatively.

  
Shepard tenses. As time passed, she worried she'd forget their faces. As it crawled forward, she hoped that she would forget the way they looked after the batarian raid. Her parents were a bloodied mess. Her younger brother, James, was face down in the mud, a red thatch of blood at the back of his head. She remembers his spindly arms and legs, dirtied with muddy water. She remembers too vividly. She couldn't save them. She thinks of that boy back on earth. James' age. She couldn't save him, either.  
  
"I-- I suppose it isn't any of my business," Traynor says after a long silence. Her legs seem to weaken and she props herself up against the counter, breathing unsteadily for a moment.  
  
"You all right there, Specialist?"  
  
Traynor flashes a determined smile. "As rotten as I feel, I'm a marine. It'll take more than a fever to get me down. But, I'd like to avoid anything else, if it's at all possible."  
  
"I'll try not to get my germs on you." She glances at her, quickly, and then looks away. "Get some shut eye. Every marine is a rifleman. We might need you."  
  
"You'll get me, ready or not," Traynor grimaces. Shepard wants to tell her that the bomb didn't go off. Clearly she knows that already. She has more difficulty taking with Traynor than with others. Maybe because she isn't on the field with her. Maybe because she isn't in the ground fight. But that's unfair. She contributes in other ways. Hell, if not for her, Jack, Kahlee Sanders and all the Grissom students would likely be dead. "I- erm. Are you okay?"  
  
"You're the one with snot running down your nose."  
  
Traynor practically slaps herself, bringing a tissue urgently to her face, dabbing and looking at it before fixing Shepard with a look of absolute vexation. "So, a Spectre, war hero and comedienne, is it?" Shepard smiles wryly. "I liked him, you know. Mordin," she says more quietly. Outside of Garrus, no one's said his name since she returned to the ship. It's almost as if they think she'll abandon the war, remember how hard it is if they remind her. "I think if I was a salarian I'd be like that. Work work work, you know, with a dash of show tunes."  
  
Shepard concentrates on the dishes. This is way too much water.  
  
"What he did-- curing the genophage. It was incredible. I-- think about it. Going into the Shroud when it was coming down like that, knowing so much depended on you... and still being able to work around the salarian sabotage. That's-- I mean, it probably all sounds so stupid when I say it. Like I'm just another groupie or something but-- the people you fight with. They're... just amazing."  
  
Shepard nearly asks how she knows all of that-- all of it, classified information, but remembers Traynor monitors their missions, listens in on their comm traffic. "He was a hell of a guy."  
  
"I... do you need to talk? You knew him. He helped you stop the Collectors. He helped on Horizon," her throat locks momentarily. Shepard looks at her. Traynor clears her throat. " I know what you accomplished... What you both accomplished was ... It was a triumph. But it must be hard. It's war but... he was your friend."  
  
"He was." She scrubs a plate. Traynor rests against the counter in silence. Shepard says nothing, can't find the words, is afraid that if she does, she'll start to cry. Emotion is a liability in war.  
  
Traynor sniffles discretely, carefully settling her teacup and saucer into the sink. She gasps as her fingers touch the scalding water, brushing against Shepard's, curled into fists. The hot water makes it impossible to detect anything but heat from the contact. "Well then. Have a good night, Commander," she finally says, softly.  
  
She turns away. Shepard wants to call after her but she doesn't. She scrubs dishes, resisting the urge to throw them against the walls, resisting the urge to scream.

 

 


	21. Illusion

_Be alive with me tonight, Thane._

They were headed through the Omega-4 relay and then to the Collector base. His previous fear of death was wiped away by her words. They would not die because she had the capability to get them through anything. He _was_ alive that night. They both were, taking and giving each other what pleasure they could. They were passionate and happy. It's as if they didn't know they were knocking on death's door.

"Father--"

Thane blinks, afraid of what he might have said while lost in the thrall of his memories. Kolyat looks at him with concern. Thane is happy Kolyat was raised outside of Kahje. He regrets following a path of vengeance instead of being a father to him. He thought himself incapable. As the last chapter of his life closes, he considers what he might have done differently.

He had limited time with his family, given to the Hanar when he was only a boy, training for six years before he began killing for them at the age of twelve. What could he know about being a father? What could he possibly pass on to his son? Nothing. Except the ways of hatred.

When Irikah was murdered, he believed any goodness he had went with her. Certainly, he abandoned any notion of a merciful death. He was vicious with her killers. His son abandoned, his reason for existence no longer living, he fell back into a sleep. He threw himself mercilessly into work. He prayed for the spirits of those whose lives he took. He awaited the day he met Irikah across the sea.

The Suicide Mission was a way to spur his death forward, to atone, in some small way. He was afraid and lost. He no longer had Irikah or Kolyat. Shepard woke him, like Irikah had. They both harnessed that inner fire, that would push them to sacrifice themselves for strangers without regard for their own safety. He couldn't imagine a life like that. It must be especially difficult for humans, who don't often think of their souls and bodies as separate things. It is not so simple to absolve themselves of the weight of their actions.

_She looks at him, the tears spilling from her eyes, no matter how she fights to contain them. The sun sets orange behind them. 'You have a galaxy to attend to and I cannot be at your side. I was sorry for it before but I know now that you have no need of me. It's freeing to find no requirements placed on me. I wish you the same peace of mind-- perhaps in the future, Commander Shepard.'_

The bright blue of the sky is momentarily blinding. Kolyat looks at him with more intensity than is his custom. Thane rests his elbows on his knees, lacing his hands and looking forward. "I apologize. It seems I keep slipping into..."

"Maybe we should return to your apartment," Kolyat suggests.

"No. I would stay here. Enjoy this while I can." He looks to his boy, stern and introspective. It is unfair that the time he attempts to give Kolyat, is taken by his eidetic memory. It has worsened, with his illness. "I have been reconsidering the desert. Perhaps we should go." Kolyat looks at him but Thane can't read anything in his somber eyes. "You made mention several months ago. I declined but... circumstances have changed."

"You were better then."

"You think it is too late for me?" he keeps his tone light, a smile on his lips.

A long silence follows. "The Citadel is the safest place to be right now. Huerta Memorial is burdened but I can't think of anywhere else in the galaxy that could attend to your needs."

"I wish to go. It is my decision."

Kolyat stands, holding his hands behind his back and staring off into the distance. Happy humans and asari chat nearby. His si-- no. She is no longer that. But Shepard is ensuring that they keep this strange pocket of paradise, this illusion. Perhaps the illusion is enough. Perhaps he shouldn't have rushed to ended things. They could have kept pretending. "I don't like it." He turns and looks at him. "And finding a shuttle during a time like this will be close to impossible."

"I have my ways."

He shifts his stance. "Are you sure about this? You always said--. I know you wanted to wait. Or at least wait for her."

Thane wonders if Kolyat feels like he is the second choice. Has he always made him feel this way? He left him after Irikah died. Now, he would go with him where he wouldn't before, not until things ended with Shepard. He is a poor father and it grieves him. "I would go with you. This will be better than Mexico."

"The Reapers weren't attacking Mexico," he mutters but nods. "I'll see to it." He goes.

Thane watches after him. He has a commanding air about him. Thane is proud to be his father and hopes that someday Kolyat will think better of him. He would like his forgiveness but feels it would be unfair to ask. He enjoys the present moment, sitting in a bench beneath a tree, the scent of the flowers around him, the heat of the 'sun' on his skin.

"So this is where you're hiding."

He looks to see Ashley approach, wearing the Alliance uniform, her hair tied in a loose ponytail. She sits next to him, an arm around the back of the bench, one leg crossed over the other. She looks at ease and confident. From what she's told him, she was present when Shepard activated the Prothean beacon. He wonders what might have happened if she'd been the one to trip it. Would she be dead or would the galaxy regale her as a hero? "I'll carry a sign next time." There aren't many drell on the Citadel.

"Hey, it's not like you can tell us humans apart," she smiles faintly. "Saw Kolyat a few minutes ago. He looked even huffier than usual." Thane's lips pull into a smile. "Isn't he a little old to rebel?"

"Ah. We've spent most of his life apart. We reunited a little under a year ago. I do not blame him for his... 'huffiness'."

"Why were you apart?"

"It shames me to admit, but I abandoned him. I chose vengeance over fatherhood. I did not regret my choice until this last year." He looks at her. Her brown eyes have narrowed but whatever she has to say she keeps it to herself. Normally he would prompt her but he isn't sure he can bear her judgment. He has enough of his own. "They killed my wife. His mother," he explains.

"Someone killed someone close to me? You can bet your ass I'd hunt them down to the ends of the galaxy," she shrugs a little. "So where _have_ you been? I've knocked on your apartment. Believe it or not, I could have tracked you down if I wanted to, but I didn't want to use Spectre resources, to do it."

He chuckles. "Aren't Spectres given special allowances?"

"Sure, but I just started this gig. The last thing I want is for the Council to think I'm using my access to hunt down an estranged boyfriend," she taps his arm, "so what gives?"

"I have been spending some time in the Silver Sun strip."

"Gambling without me? You bastard."

"You would not have wanted my company." He looks at her. "Shepard and I are... no more." He says finally. It is the first time he has said the words aloud. Kolyat suspects but respects his privacy. "It has been... difficult. I have been drowning in... memories of her. But not only that... other moments of my life."

"Shit. What happened?"

"The war." He could say his illness was a part of it but in the end, he doesn't think it's true. Even if it were, it would be unfair to say it. Shepard knew what she was getting into. She chose to involve herself. She told him how Liara once said that it was no different than an asari becoming involved with a shorter lived species. _It doesn't matter to me. What matters is us, now._ He searches for more to say but nothing comes to him.

"You okay?"

"As well as I can be, all things considered," he smiles wryly.

For a moment he regrets telling her. She is as serious as his son. Then, she smiles. "I know what will fix this right up. A night of drinking and dancing. And don't give me this 'I have Kepral's Syndrome' crap. We're going to Purgatory tonight."

Another smile tickles his lips. "You are very convincing."

"Damn right." Pops ring out, followed by screaming, cut short. The smile falls off her face. They get to their feet as the klaxon sounds. "What is that?" Panic colors her voice. 


End file.
